Savior Falling
by kysis-the-bard
Summary: Kysis, a paladin, has had a difficult life since Gorion's death and the discovery of his dark heritage. It is about to get harder when Irenicus steps in and the prophecy draws closer to completion. Will Kysis persevere, or will he fall?
1. The City of Coin

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn or Throne of Bhaal, or anything else about the series. I am not making any money by writing this. This is just for fun. Mostly my own (fun, that is).

**Warning:** Oh, where do I start? Dark themes and grotesque images. Violence. Insinuated homosexuality in the early parts which will be full out male on male love later on. Moral issues, ethical issues, philosophical issues, etc. This is just an umbrella warning. More will come later, as needed.

**Note on the characters:** Most of the characters are from the game (specifically Jaheira, Keldorn, Anomen, Imoen, Yoshimo, Aerie, Minsc, Solaufein, etc). The PC in this is Kysis, a male human paladin (cavalier kit), the character I've been playing as and rping as for eight years now. I'm trying to keep as canon as possible for all the characters while at the same time, coming up with conversations and situations and tensions of my own. Solaufein is going to be drawn some from the Sola Mod, but that will just serve as a starting point.

**Author's Note:** This is my July 2009 LDWriMo, with the goal of 50k in the month. Cheer me on? R&R is always cherished and appreciated. My muse survives off reviews, so please feed it!

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part I: The City of Coin**

The wounds were still healing. Gingerly, he lifted a bandage, dusty blue eyes narrowing. The scabs were still thick, rough, and it was slowing him down. There was only so much he could do when worrying about pulling a stitch or breaking open a scab. A sigh filtered through his pursed, ashen lips, frown intact as he re-bandaged his arm. Until that wound was healed, he would be of no use at all on the field of battle.

It was frustrating, just having to lie low, do nothing as Imoen was off, who knew where, with that fiend. Yes, the Cowled Wizards had them both now, but that did not insure safety, and he was not about to assume it. They had gone from the frying pan and into the flame too many times for him to consider safety anymore.

"Are you coming?"

Jaheira's voice sounded from the door, just as stern as ever, perhaps more so. Her harsh treatment was just a mask; Kysis could see the sad glint in her eyes, even now as he turned to glance in the dim slight of the tavern. They had only been in the Copper Coronet a day, two days, and already it felt too long. Tying off the bandage, Kysis nodded, seeing Jaheira go from the corner of his eye.

Quickly, Kysis strapped on what patchwork of armor he had. It was hardly the equipment he had when leaving Baldur's Gate, but that hardly surprised him. Such trinkets had probably been worth a small fortune. He only thought about it now that he needed a fortune to get Imoen back. The gear might have made a difference, but he refused to go after Imoen ill prepared. Now they were doubly set back.

Checking the baldric at his side, Kysis nodded, pushing his platinum hair back from his face. It was longer than he liked keeping it, but that hardly mattered. There were more important things. Tying his helm at his belt, he slung his back over his shoulder, cringing before heading out.

The boom of the main room was deafening, immediately bringing a dull throb to his head, tendrils of pain radiating from his temples, to the back of his skull, further out even. Sucking in a deep breath, he tried ignoring it. The others were ready, sitting around a table. It hardly looked like a patient kind of waiting.

Jaheira was standing, talking to someone. Harpers seemed to know everyone, and hopefully, one of those masses knew something about the Cowled Wizards, so he did not disrupt her. Minsc stared at the table with an uncharacteristic frown, slowly petting Boo in his hands. He had lost his witch, his purpose, after all they had done to save her time and again.

Yoshimo was leaning back, lounging even. He was not effected by the same loss. Kysis did not really know him, except for the few fleeting words he had said while they struggled to escape the fiend's maze. He had been captured too, for some unknown reason, and seemed more than content to tag along.

Clearing his throat, Kysis sat. He didn't want to scare them. They'd had enough frights recently for a lifetime. Despite his attempt, Minsc still jumped, Boo squeaking at the sudden jolt. Kysis tried to smile. He knew it fell flat. It was merely skin deep, unlike his wounds.

"What's the delay?" Kysis' smile dropped at the sound of his own voice. It was horse, rough in a way it hadn't been before. His voice had always been deep, rolling, but this was dark. He knew he couldn't go back, and perhaps that was the part which worried him the most.

"Food, my friend." Yoshimo smiled, patting him on the shoulder. Kysis held his breath, trying not to show the pain he felt at that friendly gesture. His armor covered his bandages; white linen crisscrossed his body, more parts of him injured than unscathed. If they were normal wounds, they would have mended. His heritage would have seen to that.

Nodding, Kysis waited. The silence felt normal. Imoen had always been the chatterbox of their little company. Conversation without her was awkward, tense. Maybe that was just the circumstance. Kysis didn't care to think about it at the moment.

"Have you heard anything about possible work?" Kysis let his gaze sweep the mass of people packed into the slums tavern. There were all different classes represented, surprisingly. Peasants, beggars, noblemen. Kysis wasn't sure who was out of place and who was right at home. Yoshimo was their guide, in that respect, as he had been in Athkathla before his own abduction.

"I've heard second hand tales of work from lazy peasants who want no part of that kind of adventure, but have yet to find the ones actually hiring." Yoshimo shrugged. If he had known Imoen, grown up with her as Kysis had, the thief might have been more concerned, not so nonchalant.

Bowls were set down on the table, one for each of them, a loaf of stale bread at the center. The liquid looked oily. It smelled old, making his stomach churn. It was better than nothing, true, but…

"You should eat."

Kysis glanced up from the bowl, lips pursed as he watched Jaheira sit. She was like a mother hen after Gorion died, and that had not changed once he became the hero of Baldur's Gate. Even as the Duke threw lavish parties in their honor, Jaheira was there chiding him. He should have gotten used to it. Then again, it had only been a few months since it all started.

Sighing, Kysis stirred the contents of the bowl with the crooked spoon provided, accepting the chunk of bread handed to him.

He would have to make the best of this.

0 0 0 0 0

Wandering the slums during the day had done no more good than sitting around in the tavern the whole time. Yes, they knew the lay of the land better now, but that hardly mattered. Kysis doubted that Imoen was in the slums, so they would just have to acquaint themselves with a new locale once they learned of her location.

A large sphere had phased into existence at the north western corner of the district, and was constant observation and study by the Cowled Wizards. Kysis wanted nothing to do with them, their sphere, and whatever they were planning, all the more since he doubted they would willingly give him the location of Imoen in exchange for whatever service he could perform.

There were commoners complaining about the circus which had come in town. It was something about the circus being closed, guards called, the Cowled Wizards being brought in even. Kysis had been curious about investigating until the mention of those dreaded wizards, and their iron grip on Amn. He was still reeling from the thought of magic being illegal.

They were back in the tavern. Jaheira had gone to talk to Bernard, to arrange for their rooms that night. There were so many hours being wasted, but they all needed the rest. From what they were hearing, the streets were far from safe after dark.

It looked like much the same crowd about the tavern that night as it had been the previous one. There were a few new faces here and there, but they were no doubt regulars and Kysis did not know it yet. Most of the people were just average city folk. Kysis could tell by the way they moved, they way they talked and looked; most of these people had probably not even traveled outside that district, much less outside of the city.

There were a few exceptions, though. Kysis could see the glint of armor through the crowd gathered around the stew pots. Standing, Kysis wove his way towards it, ignoring the questions of his party. He did not feel like explaining, getting their hopes up only to fall through. There was no guarantee. It might just be a play of lighting on the wall, or something else mundane.

When he broke through the group, Kysis saw that it was not just lights on the wall. It was a man, in armor, with a shield that bore some crest or another. Kysis did not recognize it and did not expect himself to. The man was bored, alone, and obviously of the adventuring predisposition. Kysis approached.

The man turned his head, gaze raking up Kysis, taking stock of him. Kysis saw the man's nose wrinkle. Great. This was probably just someone in armor for show, to draw women in with false tales of glory. Kysis was about to turn and go back to the table when the man, in a boisterous, almost arrogant, voice actually spoke.

"Hold, Sir. You are a smudge of light in the darkness of this rancid cesspool. Might I inquire what you are doing here?"

Kysis glanced around. Yes, it wasn't a pleasant place, but Kysis had yet to see anything that qualified it as a rancid cesspool. There was something about the man, his bearing, that told Kysis he had no evil intentions. His training as a paladin had made his senses sharp to such things.

"I'm here seeking employment. There hasn't been much luck yet." Kysis let a smile, as wane as it was, creep on his ashen lips. He used to have a golden tan, but the time spent in the racks had robbed him of his sunkissed tone. That's not all it had robbed him off. "And you?"

"Adventure of the righteous kind, of course."

Kysis almost rolled his eyes, mumbling, "Yes, of course." The way this man was talking made him sound like he was part of the Order. Hopefully not. The Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart did not exactly approve of Kysis' heritage, and they had made that loud and clear to him while he was in Baldur's Gate. "Are you looking for companions? There is safety in numbers."

"So long as you stay on the noble and good path, I suppose I can." He smoothed a hand over his thick beard and mustache, a crooked grin on his face. "My name is Anomen Delryn. I am a priest of Helm and a squire in the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart."

It took all of his will power not to groan. This trip was going to be tedious if Anomen found out about any of Kysis' carefully guarded secrets, or if Minsc or Jaheira were careless and let the largest of them, his heritage, slip in a conversation. Hopefully that would not happen, and hopefully word of who he was had not spread from Baldur's Gate all the way down into the kingdom of Amn.

"I'm Kysis." He offered a nod of his head in respectful greeting, not supplying any last name. His mother was still an unknown, though his father… introducing himself by Bhaal's name would be suicidal. "I'm a paladin, currently without sponsor."

"Ahh! Well met, then! Show me to the others, and hopefully they agree with my morals as soundly as you do!"

Already this was feeling quite trying, but Kysis quietly agreed, leading the way back to the table, handling introductions. He had always been charismatic, and it was easy enough to convince the others of Anomen's potential worth. Their ragged group of four was now five, and he was feeling slightly safer for it.

Now they just had to find work, lest their meager funds run out all together.

0 0 0 0 0

"Normally there is a plethora of people here ready to hire any adventurers that happen in. This is most unusual. Perhaps they will come out of the woodwork if we manage to impress them somehow." Anomen was standing, surveying the people present without any care of what they might think. Kysis remained seated, watching him before pulling his gaze back to the food before him.

It was the same mush as before, nowhere near the cooking he had access to in Baldur's Gate, but better than the meager rations that fiend had given him while Kysis was caged. His body was still recovering from all of the things that man did to him. It was hard for him to remember all of what happened, mind hazy with pain and horror.

"How are we supposed to prove our worth if no one will give us a chance in the first place!?" Minsc's billow brought a smile to Kysis' lips. Boo was sitting happily on the broad ranger's shoulder, looking around, sniffing. Boo no doubt could smell their food. So long as Minsc kept the hamster fed, Kysis had nothing against the creature coming with them.

"There is that matter of the circus."

Minsc and Jaheira both looked at Anomen immediately, Kysis staring at his food instead. He'd been stirring it with a dinged up spoon, trying to convince himself to eat it. Any nourishment was better than none.

Putting down the spoon, Kysis pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before letting his sapphire eyes slide over to Anomen. "I heard the Cowled Wizards were involved."

"At first, they took a look at it and then left to circus to fend for itself." Anomen's disapproval was obvious, as were all of his other tones. He stroked his beard, tapping a finger on his chin. "If we do this, we could quickly build a reputation. The work offers would be plentiful."

"Right now we should be lying low, not drawing more attention to ourselves when—"

"Jaheira, we have no choice." Kysis glanced at his old friend and guardian, and she smiled warmly back. She had never questioned his leadership, and from the looks of it, she was not about to begin now. For that Kysis was thankful. He needed the support at the moment. "Tomorrow we'll go to the circus and see what we can do. Hopefully this works."

The others nodded and got back to eating. This start was promising… somewhat.


	2. Carnival of the Mind

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Baldur's Gate in any way what so ever. I do not make money from it what so ever. This is mostly for my own amusement.

**Warnings:** For this section… dark themes? Violence, strange happenings, me musing about how the characters would react to stuff, etc, etc. Maybe some insinuations of homosexuality.

**Author's Note:** LDWriMo has kicked off to a good start. Hopefully I can keep it going.

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part II: Carnival of the Mind**

The roof of the Copper Coronet hardly compared to the high stone walls of Candlekeep, but the nostalgia was undeniable, even with the glaring differences. The morning air was cool against his skin, a fine mist of dew collecting on his pale skin. He kept his eyes trained towards the horizon, broken only by silhouetted building tops.

First the glimmering blanket of the stars pulled back, each little white light blinking out. The sky began to lighten, and finally, the sun rose over the jagged black line of the horizon, lighting the thin layer of low clouds with purples and pinks and golds. Kysis smiled faintly, hanging on to every moment of it, even as the spectacular lights faded away.

The morning was crisp, refreshing. The air was not so suffocating up there, so stuffy, so downtrodden. Kysis could see the hurt of these people, trapped in the slums of Athkatla. He could feel it in the rough, weather torn wood of the buildings, smell it in the foul stench of the air. Their suffering was everywhere and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. That was the worst part.

Standing, Kysis stretched, shaking feeling back into his legs. He was wide awake now, no fog lingering in his brain, as his last few mornings had been. The air outside was amazing after that dingy prison cell, deep under the Promenade. He kept reminding himself of it, as though forgetting would cause worse to befall him.

Worse was always possible. He had to get moving.

Wrapping his cloak tightly around him, Kysis started down the stares, testing his steps before putting weight on them. The wood was rickety at best. He had to be careful.

When he made it down into the main room of the tavern, they were lighting to stove fires, getting ready to warm up whatever they had for the paying guests. Kysis would rather leave immediately, but knew Jaheira would not allow it. Instead, he settled down at the table they had practically claimed as their own, eyes raking over the various things carved into its surface. Trivial things like names, titles, events, loves. Kysis did not have time for the latter most item of the list. He doubted he ever would.

"Did you have trouble sleeping again?"

Kysis turned his head, seeing Jaheira approaching. She looked wary, like she might have had nightmares as well.

Though he shook his head, claimed to have slept just fine, Kysis knew there were grey circles under his eyes. There were worry lines on his face which had not been there before, back in Candlekeep, when everything was all right. He lived a quiet life with Gorion. He didn't know about his heritage. Sarevok never came.

That was all gone now.

"Dreams again?"

Kysis swallowed at the lump in his throat. It didn't go away. "Yes."

After Gorion died, he started having dreams, terrible nightmares, where he would sail through a sea of blood in a ship not in his control, and yet, he was the ship. He would dream of people dying. Being murdered. Falling. Screaming. It was all too fresh, lingering in the back of his mind, dry tinder begging to be ignited.

These dreams were different.

"It was Imoen. We were… at a distorted version of Candlekeep. There were dark corners and voids everywhere, even where bright flowers used to be…" Kysis let his eyes go out of focus, a blur of colors, of the dancing flames of the cooking line, filling his vision. It helped him focus on the details of the dream. "Irenicus was there, too. He spoke of decisions to come. He was… hurting Imoen."

"There, see. No premonitions in your dreams this time. They are in Cowled Wizard custody. Irenicus has no access to Imoen and can hurt her no longer." Jaheira was smiling. It was obvious this triumph meant a lot to her, even if it fell flat for Kysis.

"Isn't Imoen's being away from us, being confined and subjugated by the Cowled Wizards just another example of the different kinds of pain Irenicus can inflict upon her? It is his fault that she was taken." Kysis turned back to the table. His voice, still just a hushed whisper, begged an answer but received none. He had not been expecting one, even if he hoped. "Where are the others? We need to hurry and get to this."

"I'll go fetch them." Jaheira got up hurriedly. She was avoiding the topic. She knew he was right. Kysis could at least take comfort in the fact that he was not losing his mind.

0 0 0 0 0

Waukeen's Promenade was not a place he had planned on returning to for a while, and yet, there he was, staring up at the tall, coliseum walls, the rows of venders of shop doors with hawkers stationed outside, billowing advertisements. Banners hung here and there, denoting one merchant family from another. It was all a smudge of colors to Kysis. He did not know any of the family seals, and reputations socially hardly mattered when it came to merchandise, so long as said items were acquired fairly and lawfully.

At the far end of the Promenade he could see the destruction caused by their captor. The Shadow Thieves had attacked en mass, and their efforts against the lone mage had been slaughter. The Cowled Wizards had followed, those dread enforcers of the anti-magic laws falling as though they were nothing more than flies to him.

The man's words still echoed in his head, unwilling to let go. It felt like yesterday when he had told Imoen that she just did not understand. It wasn't torture. Not torture? The wounds Kysis still bore, numerous, many magically inflicted, others caused by the knife, were somehow not torture? Kysis couldn't fathom what else it might be called.

A hand touched his shoulder, squeezing. Thankfully it was not the injured shoulder, which Kysis had hidden under a metal pauldron. His right shoulder was fine, as was the right arm, but it was not his main sword arm. Yes, he could use both, but he had always been left handed, and nothing changed that now. Kysis glanced at the hand after a moment, when it did not move.

It was Anomen, giving him a worried look. Kysis was surprised to see it wasn't Jaheira. Anomen looked at a loss of words for once, rubbing his lips together, frowning, before he finally spoke. "When you look over there, at the rubble, your eyes go somewhere far away and you look absolutely haunted. What is it, friend?"

Kysis closed his eyes, head inclined down as he forced himself to take a deep breath. He was shaking. The fact that he was shaking worried him; there was no way of backing out of an answer, as Anomen's steady hand had no doubt felt it.

"My childhood friend, Imoen, was taken by the Cowled Wizards up there when she tried to confront our captor. She was only trying to protect us. We did not know where we were, and—"

"Don't worry, Kysis. I will help in rescuing your Imoen." Anomen gave another squeeze of his shoulder before finally releasing. "Come. Concentrating on other matters will help clear your mind."

Nodding, Kysis followed. He was used to being in the front of the group, giving commands, orders, leading the way, but right now, he was thankful to have Anomen weaving through the Promenade, Kysis and the others following like the tail of a snake. His mind was still on the rumble and shake of the sturdy stone of the Promenade as the fiend wizard called forth spell after spell as though it came as naturally as breathing. The grand exit of the Promenade, the hole they had managed to crawl out of, it all collapsed at his display of power.

If the Shadow Thieves had not begun their assault when they had, he would not have been given the chance to escape in the first place. Their blood still stained the fallen stones. The intervention of the Cowled Wizards had no doubt saved them from the full wrath of the mage, but he was not entirely thankful for it. There was still Imoen to save.

Deep down, inside, he knew they would come into contact with Irenicus again.

The circus tent loomed ahead, brightly striped cloth shining cheerfully in the early morning light. The people around it were far from cheery, though. A couple stood off to the side, whispering to one another, casting dark glances at the tent entrance. There was a boy sitting by the tent, legs drawn up to his chest. He was rocking back and forth sniffling, cheeks pink and puffy from crying.

That was where Kysis went first, kneeling down. He tried smiling, though he knew it did not reach his eyes. "Child, what is wrong? Where are your parents?"

The boy lifted his arm, pointing at the entrance to the circus tent. Kysis glanced at it. Though the flap was open, there was only darkness within, a strange phenomenon. Light should have gone past that line. A shiver ran up his spine. It was magic. After being forced into such close quarters with his torturer, he could tell magic just by the feel of it, and it made his skin crawl.

"What happened?"

The boy shook his head, sniffling again. "I don't know. My momma is still in there."

"Don't worry. I will find your mother." Kysis ruffled his hand through the boy's hair, heart clenching at the hopeful look the boy gave him. "I promise." Standing, Kysis approached the guard in front of the tent entrance, gait determined, sure.

"Stand back! This area has been restricted by the Cowled Wizards!"

Kysis put his hand up, looking directly into the armored man's eyes as he spoke. "There is no need for that. I have dealt with similar issues in the past. Perhaps I can help remedy this problem."

For a moment, the guard stood tense at his post, holding his halberd as though it was his only lifeline. The man's full armor, mostly plate, though Kysis could see chain peeking through the gaps, was undinged. The guard had probably never been in battle in his life. Kysis wondered that there were not more issues like this one in Athkatla, if that was how the guard worked. Then again, the Flaming Fist had not been much different in Baldur's Gate.

The guard let out a sigh, and it was like he deflated right there, no longer seeming a towering mass of steel, but a man. "Don't blame me if you get hurt. No one has managed to get out."

Kysis glanced back at the boy, and to the guard. The boy had gotten out. The fact that the guard was wrong was reassuring, though he was still nervous about trespassing into the issues of Cowled Wizards. The last thing he wanted was to draw their attention. Trying not to show his worry, he waved for the others to follow, once again leading as he stepped into the dark void of the tent entrance and was transported.

0 0 0 0 0

Where the tent entrance led them certainly was not the inside of a simple circus tent. High above them, the sky was dark, veiled in thick fog. A wide bridge extended out from the entrance, which was closed behind them, to no surprise. Beneath the bridge sat calm, dark waters. He could not tell how deep they were, nor did he care to test it. Beyond the bridge was a tower. That tower could not possibly fit inside the circus tent, much less inside the Promenade.

There was something terribly wrong about all of this.

Kysis gripped the railing of the bridge. It was smooth, metallic, with a ghosting of intricate golden designs upon it. The decadence was glaring. It was all so strange, so surreal, and yet he could feel the railing firmly in his grip. Magic. Everything was humming with it. His stomach churned.

"I scouted the perimeter of the tower. There were werewolves and shadows! We should go quickly, and show them a good butt kicking!" Minsc shook his sword, the Sword of Chaos, the weapon Sarevok had once used. His half brother was dead now, but he could still feel some of Sarevok's malevolence in the blade. Kysis did not dare to touch the weapon. It had the taint of the dead Lord of Murder coursing through it.

Shaking his head, Kysis checked his own gear. The sword at his side was fine steel, but bore no enchantments, not like the equipment he had carried upon their departure from the sanctuary that was Baldur's Gate. It had been so quick, the assault on their party, that Kysis had not even been able to draw his sword, much less use it.

The thought of combating shadows without some form of proper equipment sounded suicidal at best.

"Not now. We need to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. There are still people alive here, somewhere." Kysis glanced back at the others, who nodded their agreement. Anomen did not seem terribly pleased, but Kysis was not budging. He was not ready to die yet. None of them were, so they had no choice. "Are there any other entrances to the tower?"

"No. It is either that door, or the same magic the Djinni used."

The Djinni was part of what had him so worried. Those creatures were never loyal to any master; as soon as the master's back was turned, it was fully open to other arrangements to get itself out of service, as the Djinni below the Promenade had proven when it traded Sarevok's dread sword for freedom. This Kalah somehow held the Djinni well enough that it spouted riddles rather than asking freedom.

Kalah was at the bottom of this. It was only a matter of finding out who Kalah was, where this strange place was and how to get them and all of the survivors out.

Removing his hand from the railing, Kysis started straight ahead, pushing open the large double doors with his right shoulder. They moved more like air than the weight such metal things truly must have been. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

The room inside was spacious, wide open with spindly columns around the rims. There were pools of water, strongly scented pedals floating on the surface. The patterns on the floor were dizzying. Strangest of all was the ogre at the center of the room, dressed in gaudy colors, shivering by the railing. It might have been female, but Kysis could hardly tell.

Holding his hand up, a signal for the others to keep back, Kysis stepped forward, eyes narrowed at her. Something wasn't right. It was like a shivering cocoon of magic encased her. Everything in the room was similarly wreathed, and it explained the terrain outside as well. That greater understanding did not help him. He was hardly a mage, and he doubted that even if he was, he would be powerful enough to dispell it all.

"Wait! Don't attack me! Please! This is all an illusion, I swear! I'm an elf! A winged elf!"

The voice which came out of the ogre made him stop in his tracks. That voice was female, sweet like honey, and quavered with fear. That was not the voice of an ogre, or at least not any ogre voice he had heard in all of his travels to the north.

"Leave while you still can, before Kalah does this to you too! You have to get out!"

"Tell me what is going on. I am here to help." Though his words were kind, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, fingers strumming nervously against the leather wrapped handle. "I need to know who Kalah is and what can be done to reverse all of this."

Slowly, her panic faded. The smooth tones of his voice had always had that effect on people. It was part of the reason Gorion had suggested he study the ways of the paladins. She smiled, though with the crooked, hooked teeth of an ogre, it came out ghastly. That could not be helped until the illusion was broken.

"There are chains on me, hidden by the illusion. Kalah's minions have the key, only, because of the illusions, it looks like a sword. You have to get the key!"

"This monster is trying to trick us, Kysis. It cannot be trusted." Anomen stood close to his side, whisper fierce, but hardly quiet. Kysis could see the woman, the ogre, tense.

"I sense no evil about her, Anomen." Kysis barely turned his head, keeping his eyes on the ogre. "If this is a trap, and we are truly arming a monster, I will face the consequences. I would rather run that risk than the one of killing an innocent."

"You're falling for it."

"Trust me." Kysis stepped away, closer now to the central fountain, to the ogre. "Tell me, where can I find this sword?"

"Kalah's followers are disguised as peasants. They are really orcs. The people trapped in the circus were made to look like monsters." The ogre leaned back on the railing by the pool behind her, shoulders dropping in relief. That pose looked strange, uncomfortable even, for a creature of her size, but it reaffirmed the feeling he had that this woman was no ogre. Whether or not she was a winged elf was an entirely different matter, which they could deal with after Kalah was dealt with.

"I'll get it."

0 0 0 0 0

The last of the shadows fell, crumbling into a heap before dissipating all together. Kysis lowered his sword, tip hovering just above the mosaic floors. His blade had been of little use except when dealing with the illusions, the werewolves, dispatching them quickly so the others could focus on the shadows. He could feel the evil radiating from them, a tangible aura wafting off them; he wanted to step in, but had to concentrate on other things.

"You were right. Again." Anomen put his mace back in its holder, loosening the straps of his shield some and flexing his fingers. He was frowning. Kysis wondered if he ever smiled. "Let us be done with this fowl magic."

Kysis glanced back. Aerie stood at the back of the group, a tiny figure compared to them, with brightly hued orange and yellow robes. She held her quarterstaff awkwardly. Every so often she pushed her blond hair back out of her face, giving the wayward, bead laced strands a frustrated look. She was a cleric and a mage; Kysis had yet to decide if they could risk a magic user in their company or not.

"Yes, Kysis?" Aerie put on a nervous smile. She obviously did not trust him any more than Anomen did. Kysis wished he could have his old companions back, trusted friends, but many of them were dead, or had found comfortable places in life where they could do some good. Kysis hadn't been able to settle down like that.

"You said Kalah is at the top of this tower?"

Aerie nodded, clutching her quarterstaff to her. "I think he has my uncle. We have to hurry!"

There was no time to waste. Kysis turned towards the grand staircase, almost jumping when he saw the Djinni standing there. After all of this oddity and magic, he was looking forward to the mundane, grungy halls of the Copper Coronet.

"You have progressed far, young Sir, and Kalah has much interest in your success. He wishes an audience with you." The Djinni let out a billowing laugh, smiling large with his head tilted back, and then he teleported away again, no doubt to the top of the tower.

Considering how tall it was… Kysis was not sure how much longer they had to go. If this was all illusion as Aerie said, not some alternate place, the laws of normal architecture would hardly apply. It could be anything of Kalah's imagination.

They would just have to keep going up.

"Yoshimo, sweep for traps. I don't want any surprises."

Yoshimo quickly darted off, flitting in and out of shadows here and there. Soon enough he was up the stairs, glancing around as though bored. "The way is clear." He gave a short bow, a smile tugging at the corners of Kysis' lips, though he did not let it out. Yoshimo was carefree, it seemed. That was good. It would do to keep their spirits up.

Kysis quickly hopped up the stairs, motioning for the others to follow. They did so slowly, with uncertainty. Not waiting for them to catch up, Kysis opened the door, coming through.

His eyes quickly noticed two shadows and two illusionary werewolves, posturing for the attack. Across the room stood a lone ogre mage, also in bright, festive colors. The grin on the ogre's face was maniacal. The ogre was facing a heap of slime which seemed to be pulsing and moving, living. The ogre turned his head, that grin only growing.

"Why hello there, my puppets. I see that I pull your strings and you come. Oh so good." A cackle followed. Kysis could hear the madness in it. "My little beast, why did you shed your lovely form?"

"I'm not your beast, Kalah!! Where's Uncle Quayle?"

"Aerie! You're safe!"

Kysis turned his gaze to the slime, surprised to hear a voice come from it. Quayle was a familiar name to him. There had been a gnome by that name outside Baldur's Gate whom had accompanied them for a while before they went separate ways. It was surprising to hear anything familiar here in Amn, so far away from the Sword Coast and Baldur's Gate.

"What happened to the other people of the circus?" Kysis took a step forward. The shadows crouched. He could see they were ready to attack, straining against the anticipation. Just as they were startlingly dark to him, a void, he must have seemed blindingly bright to them. Kysis flexed his fingers on the hilt of his sword.

"You're here to stop me, aren't you? You don't want to bathe in my glory?" The ogre quirked his head to the side, an exaggerated frown pulling his lips downward. "No one questions Kalah's authority! Attack, my beasts!"

Bright orbs of magic ripped from Kalah's fingertips, shooting towards the slime, slamming into them. Another chant began on the ogre's lips, loud, booming.

"Minsc, Jaheira, the shadows! Anomen, Yoshimo, deal with the illusions." Kysis glanced back for a split second, not giving any command to Aerie. She was trembling as though she had never been in combat before, which was worrisome.

Kysis darted forward, keeping his sword low before swinging up, slashing at Kalah. The mage ignored it, continuing his chant, concentration somehow uninterrupted. Kysis could feel the cocoon of magic around him as well, sheathing his over-large body. His swipes went right through the muscular arms of the ogre as though they were air, ghosting through its neck like clouds.

His body wasn't tied directly from the illusion. The chant was nearing completion, he had to react quickly, find out how to damage Kalah, something, anything. Aerie had said… Kalah was a gnome! Kysis thrust his sword down, forward, tip of the blade meeting resistance before sliding into the sheath of flesh.

The chant stopped, a wet cough following. The tower started to tremble, floor wobbly, shaking, and then it all dissipated.

They were standing on the dirt ground of the circus tent, a wide open enclosure with various games and wheels and workers. There were no more monsters, just people. Frightened, normal people. On his sword was a small form, an adult, male gnome.

Kalah laughed weakly, coughing again. His lips were red with blood. "You do not understand, do you?"

"No. I don't."

"Well, you're a lowly fool. I didn't expect you to."

Kysis jerked his sword back, leaving a hole through the gnome's abdomen. Kalah stumbled back, grunting as he fell to one knee. Blood gushed from the now open void, a piece of severed entrails hanging from the wound. Kysis cringed, looking sharply away.

The smell of blood still had a strange effect on him.

Swallowing at the lump in his throat, failing to rid himself of it, Kysis turned away, scanning the crowd instead. He still had to find the boy's mother and Quayle in the crowd. Hopefully they had not been killed.

At least now this whole ordeal was over with. Kysis could only hope that word traveled to the right ears and offers of work which actually paid would start coming their way.


	3. Attention

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Baldur's Gate or related characters or events or any of that stuff. I just write this fanfiction.

**Warnings:** insinuations of homosexuality, disturbing images, dark themes.

**Author's Note:** I am writing this fiction for LDWriMo, meaning I'm hoping to get to 50k or more in the matter of a month. So far, I am off to a good start. Hopefully I can keep it up. R&R is thoroughly appreciated, as it helps feed my muse. I plan on going back to proof read and edit when the month is over.

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part III: Attention**

The boisterous noise of the tavern was muffled some by the thin wooden walls, that din preferable to the sounds of what the other customers decided to do in their free time, in the locked and guarded back rooms. There were better taverns in Athkatla. More reputable. Better crowd. Those taverns were also more expensive and had less information flowing through them. The people at the higher scale taverns preferred to turn their heads and give trouble a blind eye; that was not what they needed right now.

Though they had asked around for work, questioning the patrons if they had heard of anyone hiring, there had been no luck. It was only the day after they had saved the circus, but he was growing impatient. Word had traveled, at least some, about how they saved the circus. People were talking about it with joy on their faces, though it was more about the fact that they could visit the circus again than anything else.

The only heroes that mattered here in the City of Coin were one with gold to offer. Though they had gold, they were not willing to spend it, unless it was absolutely necessary. Right now, the Copper Coronet was a necessary evil, at least until they gathered enough information to move out, to safely set up camp in the wilderness without fear of missing something.

Sighing, Kysis loosened the strap of his pauldron, that piece of armor coming off first. He rolled his shoulder, cringing at the lingering pain. The scab was starting to come off in chunks, revealing a bumpy, pink scar underneath. All of his wounds were scarring, his fair skin smattered with them now. Just a few months ago, he hadn't a single scar to speak of. Times had changed.

Loosening the other plates of his armor, he slowly took them off, one at a time, putting them in a neat pile by the hard, small rectangle the inn proprietor called a bed. He'd yet to lay his bedroll over it to make it more comfortable. He wasn't ready to sleep yet. The promise of the dreams to come deterred him.

Peeling his chainmail aside, Kysis glanced at his shoulder bandage. He would rebandage everything later. First he needed to get more comfortable, clean the wounds so they did not get infected, and then he could work on the linens. He needed water to do that…

A knock sounded on his door. Kysis expected it to swing open immediately, one of his companions coming in. That did not happen. Instead another, louder knock sounded, more urgent. Kysis stopped from pulling off his chainmail, crossing the cramped space to the door, opening it.

A man in an embroidered tunic stood before him, trying to smile, though it came out thin. There were wrinkles around his eyes. Kysis saw the emblem of the Cowled Wizards on the man's breast, a frown immediately forming.

"Yes?"

"You are Kysis?" The man's eyes roamed him, as if taking stock of him. He looked somewhat disappointed. He probably expected a knight in shining armor, something Kysis never was, and probably never would be. No knightly organization would have him anyway.

"What do the Cowled Ones want with me?"

"Ah, you are very astute. That is good. My name is Mandeen." The man offered a flourishing bow, flicking his wrist in that motion. Kysis kept a close watch on those hands. There were a few rings on Mandeen's fingers, ones Kysis recognized as being specifically made to help mages. His eyes narrowed. Mandeen followed his gaze, smile staying just as fake, as diplomatic. "Very astute indeed."

"You still haven't answered my question." Kysis reached for the door, hand gripping the rough wood in a way which suggested he would slam the door shut. Mandeen quickly threw up his hands, a few rushed 'waits' flying off his lips. Kysis knew how to get someone speaking.

"I was sent by Tolgerias, a Cowled Wizard in good standing, to locate you. You see, your exploits in Waukeen's Promenade really caught his eye, and he would like to offer you some work."

"What kind of work?" Kysis frowned, gazing past Mandeen at the doors to the tiny rooms his companions occupied. Normally, he would discuss no such matters without the other members of his group present, for their council and approval, but this man was giving him no choice. From the fact that most of the doors had no light under them, Kysis knew them to be asleep, and he did not want to disturb that, especially with how hard it had been for him to get any sleep since their capture.

"This matter is extremely sensitive, as are all of the dealings of the Cowled Ones. I can speak of this no further. Tolgerias will be in the Council building, in the government district. Seek him out soon, as this offer will not last forever." Mandeen gave him a short nod and turned on his heel, striding off. Any truly powerful mage would have just spirited himself away on a spell. Though Mandeen was obviously a mage, he was not one of much note.

Kysis glanced once more at the darkness beneath most of the doors, and then the candlelight flickering under one. That was the one Aerie had taken. She was probably studying her spells, as all magic users did at night.

She was new to the group, and far from a voice of sound reason, so Kysis would not bother her with Mandeen's message. He would deal with it in the morning.

0 0 0 0 0

The tavern crowd in the mornings was much thinner than the evening one. A few of the people renting rooms were already downstairs, waiting groggily for whatever food they could get. Kysis checked the straps on his armor as he walked, only partially paying attention to where he was going. He saw a table far enough ahead of him to dodge around it, feet steady though his path was not arrow straight.

Kysis glanced up. Their table across the long room was empty still. Kysis walked over slowly, steps uncertain now. It was incredibly dark in the tavern, the flames of candles and lanterns doing little to light anything. Normally the Copper Coronet was a bright place. There weren't any windows, but the numerous other lights made up for it.

Not now.

Carefully, Kysis sat down. Bernard was not in his usual spot. Taking another glance around the tavern, Kysis noted how there were only a few people there now, some having left. Or vanished. Kysis shook his head. It was just early. Most of the tavern's crowd had no doubt stayed up into the late hours of the night, taking part of the back rooms. Those back rooms worried him.

His eyes were drawn to the door on the other end of the tavern, which led to the back rooms. There was another door, a closer one, but it was blocked by the height of the supports for the stairs going to it. The other on was in his line of sight, standing there, unguarded. The door was slightly ajar.

Kysis stood. There was no one else in the room. He had never been in such a quiet tavern before. His steps echoed on the wooden floor, glaringly loud to his ears. For a moment he held his breath, straining to hear over the in and out of air into his lungs. His head throbbed, painful, but bearable. Just about anything was bearable after that fiend's dungeon.

His hand touched against the wood of the door. He hesitated. There was no one in the tavern with him. The lanterns were all devoid of flames, some of the glass casings cracked, tarnished, the metal trappings all rusted over. A layer of dust covered everything. Cobwebs connected the pots on the long stove in the room, an eerie white pattern amidst all that black.

Pushing, Kysis followed the door inward.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. Kysis lifted up his foot, bottom of his foot sticking to the mostly congealed life-force. The floor was red, splatter and smears of it up the walls, all the way down the long hallway. That hallway seemed to extend for forever. It sloped gently downward, getting darker and darker. He couldn't tell where the light was coming from. Perhaps it was coming from him. Only the things closest to him were illuminated, anyhow.

A few more steps forward, and he was almost entirely wreathed in darkness.

"I'm here."

That voice was tiny, a frightened whisper, tired and broken. It barely reached his ears. Even with the distortion of fear and defeat, he knew that voice. Imoen. It was Imoen! Kysis jumped into a sprint, feeling the last of his stitches tear out and not caring. Old wounds opened. He kept running.

There was no more light.

Kysis bolted upright, sheets sliding to his midriff, sweat clinging to his exposed skin, cooling slowly. He drew in deep draughts of air, fighting to catch his breath. He was in his room, in the Copper Coronet, alone only because of the walls around him. There were others near by. He could vaguely sense those familiar presences near by.

Through the hole in the ceiling, he could see the stars slowly blinking out, the sky brightening. It was already another day. He did not feel rested. If these dreams continued, he never would.

0 0 0 0 0

A morning meal was out, each of them eating quickly, quietly. There were more important things they could be doing, like seeking out the work which was not yet seeking out them. Kysis couldn't eat his food at the pace the others were, slowly lifting lopsided spoonfuls, trying not to gag on the haphazard flavors each held. He did not feel well, but didn't want to worry the others.

It seemed he had drawn too much attention already.

"Um, Kysis?" Aerie put down her spoon, wringing her hands together. She always looked nervous. "I didn't mean to overhear, but… who came to talk to you last night?"

The others paused in their eating, turning to look at Kysis. He could feel their eyes boring into him. It wasn't a good feeling. "It was nothing. Just a tavern patron too drunk to remember which door was his."

"Oh. Yes, of course." Aerie blushed, shoulders slumping. She started eating again, not looking up.

The last thing the others needed to worry about was the Cowled Wizards. They had enough to fret about without bringing the dread magic enforcers into the picture, so Kysis would stay quiet about it. He had no want to work with the wizards, to associate with the wizards, or to risk the capture of more of his companions. Aerie, being a mage, would probably understand.

When they were all done, Minsc went back to his room, quickly followed by Anomen and Aerie. Yoshimo started wandering the crowd, no doubt eavesdropping for information. Whatever else the bounty hunter was doing, Kysis did not want to know. Jaheira lingered, Kysis acting quickly, approaching the half elf for advice, as he always had done since they met.

"I had another dream."

Jaheira turned her head, hair swinging in her face. She had to push some loose coppery strands from her face; it revealed the worry in her blue eyes. "What was this one about?"

"Everyone was gone. This tavern was abandoned, but… I went into the back rooms, and they were bathed in… in blood." Kysis took a deep breath, closing his eyes. That did not help. He could see it just as vividly now as he could during the dream. "I could hear Imoen. She was down a long hallway. The further I went, the darker it was and…"

"Your food probably just did not sit right. Don't worry. Not all of your dreams come true." Jaheira tried to smile. There were dark bags starting to show under her eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep either. She let her gaze wander towards the entrance to the rooms, Kysis following the line of her sight. Aerie was there, watching them before glancing sharply away, trying to busy herself somehow. It all looked so awkward. "Aerie seems… quite taken by your leadership."

"Oh?" Kysis had not been paying attention, though now that he thought back, she was always eager to agree with anything he said, and whenever he glanced up, she was always looking. He had always thought she was just weighing him to her standards, seeing if he was a cause to be loyal to or not. "What makes you think that?"

"She's young and naïve." Jaheira's lips were pursed in a thin line, arms crossed. She didn't seem pleased about this in any way. "You are very charismatic. Anyone who had a chance to bathe in your glory would be taken by you. Don't take advantage of her."

"Jaheira, I am a paladin." He could have left it at that, but he didn't, tongue running away with him. "I have no such interest in women." Kysis could feel the worried look he was getting from Jaheira. There was more truth in what he said than he would openly admit. "My duty as a paladin comes first."

Jaheira breathed a sigh of relief, as though her worries had been dispelled. Though she seemed more relaxed, Kysis could feel the tension, thick in the air. He frowned. He wanted to get moving. The door to the back rooms was like a looming menace, the guard in front of it glaring back at him. If he stayed in the Copper Coronet much longer, he might have to explore those back rooms.

He was certain he wouldn't like what he found.

A shiver traveled up his spine. Kysis tried suppressing it, the discomfort coming out as a half shudder. Kysis tried forcing a smile to hide his anxiety. Not wanting the subject to linger any longer, Kysis headed back to his own room. He needed to pack his meager possessions so they could go on the hunt of adventure once more.


	4. Ashes of the Father

**Disclaimer:** I do not own. I just write this fic. Yay?

**Warnings:** Violence, dark themes, some things that do not go exactly as the game has it, but as I think would have happened giving the circumstances. Still homosexuality. That's not going away. Nothing showing yet, though.

**Author's Note:** I have epic muse fairies, and the good luck of holidays in which work gets shut down for a lack of business, so I end up having more time to write than originally thought. That means a lot more is to come. I plan on at least getting 50k this month. Anything above that is just awesome.

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part IV: Ashes of the Father**

Carefully, Kysis pulled the little pouch from under his tunic, clenching the leather sleeve in his hand. There was not much in there, a small amount of ashes, all that was left of his dead half-brother. When they killed him under Baldur's Gate, he turned to ash, crumbling out of existence. It was frightening. Kysis knew that the same would happen to him. They were both Children of Bhaal. If Kysis died, absolutely nothing could be done to raise him.

That scared him, and yet, at the same time, it felt somewhat like freedom. He'd be free of this cursed blood once and for all, free of their terrible destiny, written out by the prophets of the gods. He would no longer be fated to follow in Bhaal's footsteps.

His hand was shaking.

A soft knock tapped on the door, barely audible had it not been for his keen ears. Kysis quickly tucked the pouch back away under his tunic, smoothing it out so it laid flat against his chest. The door opened only a moment later, Yoshimo sliding inside the small crack he created, before closing the door with a quiet click.

Sometimes Kysis forgot Yoshimo was a thief, a bounty hunter, trained so thoroughly in stealth. Kysis tried not to look him over for weapons, instead looking at the far wall, a frown on his still pale lips. They were in the Copper Coronet again. The Slums were abnormally quiet, except for the odd chatter around the sphere which had phased into the north western corner of the district. Kysis had avoided that place all day, coming up with excuses as to why they had to take the long route around the district in search of information and employment.

Yoshimo sat down on the clothing chest, looking perfectly at home and comfortable on the odd choice of chair. There was nothing else to sit on but Kysis' bed, and the paladin was currently seated there. They were not all that comfortable in each other's presence. There was no need to make it awkward.

"You have looked worried lately. What troubles you, friend?" Yoshimo put on a smile. It reached his voice, but not his dark eyes. "I see you grasp here, like you are reaching for an amulet which is no longer there." Yoshimo demonstrated as he spoke, clutching the air over his chest, right where the little pouch of ashes rested in hiding on Kysis.

There was no point in hiding it, denying it, lying about it. Yoshimo would see through it, and even if he didn't, he could always sneak in at night while Kysis was deep in dream, checking for a pouch or a journal or anything to give him clues. Kysis did not like people snooping. He would have to feed Yoshimo a small amount of information and hope it satiated the bounty hunter's curiosity.

Lightly, Kysis tugged the pouch out by the leather cord it dangled on, letting it rest on his beige tunic, in the open. Normally he did not let other eyes see it. As far as he knew, Jaheira, Minsc and Imoen did not even know about the ashes he carried.

"They are… my half-brother's ashes."

"Ah. I am very sorry for your loss. When did this happen?"

"I killed him." Kysis' voice came out as a thin whisper. "It was the only way to stop a full war from breaking out between Baldur's Gate and Amn."

Yoshimo nodded. His smile was gone now, face its usual seriousness. "I heard some about this before my capture, but not many details. How was your half-brother the key to stopping the war?"

"Sarevok was the one trying to start the war, in honor of our father. He thought…" Kysis shook his head. He was gripping the pouch of ashes again, fingers turning white in their tight grip. It was a habit of his which had formed. It was probably a bad one. The others wouldn't approve of it. In the wizard's dungeon, it had been the only thing Kysis could cling to in his tiny, hanging cell.

"He thought what?"

"He thought it could bring him back."

Yoshimo watched him for a moment, gaze level, unwavering. "Who is your father?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." The answer was mumbled. Kysis stared at the floor. That sort of heritage was not something he wanted everyone to know, though he felt a twinge of guilt about keeping it from his new companions. He had to be cautious, safe. The last thing he needed was a horde of zealous supposed do-gooders chancing him with torches and pitchforks for his heritage, completely ignoring his good deeds because it was useful to their current cause.

"Try me. There are a great many strange and marvelous things in the world, some I have seen, some I have only read about. Whatever you say should not be nearly as shocking as half of them." The reassurance Yoshimo gave was hardly comforting.

He had no idea.

Kysis let go of the pouch, readjusting how he was sitting. He stretched, back popping. It felt better after that. Most of his wounds were closed now. It was safe to use his dominate hand in combat again, for which he was thankful. Their survival would not be so much up to chance any longer.

"Have you read the prophecies of Alaundo?"

"Some. He had many, many writings."

Kysis nodded. He knew. Candlekeep was full of the writings of Alaundo; he wished he had read more while he had access to those grand, knowledge soaked halls. His current predicament might not have been so alien to him if he knew what was told of his future. "_When shadows descend upon the lands, our divine lords will walk alongside us as equals. The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sown in their passage._"

By now he knew the words by heart. At first, while in Candlekeep, he had thought nothing of such prophecies, but, when he found out what he really was… Kysis could no longer ignore all of the signs and signals. He had to keep fighting this presence in his blood, his heart.

"Bhaal. You are a child of Bhaal." The shock in Yoshimo's voice was evident. That could not be faked.

"Yes."

"Chaos you may bring, but it is not of your own doing, my friend. If anything, you are a shining beacon of light in all of this darkness. Please, Kysis, do not lose this."

The words were shockingly heartfelt. Kysis looked up, wetting his lips. Yoshimo was already out of the door, clicking shut when he opened his mouth to speak.

0 0 0 0 0

The Temple District was hauntingly quiet in the early morning. The slanted sunlight did not make it over many of the monumental buildings, casting long, dark shadows over the temple entrances. As he walked past various windows, he could hear different songs of prayer, sermons, wishes, hopes, dreams. Kysis looked in longingly, but did not enter any of those doors, even as acolytes called out in welcome. It was not his place there.

They were an eclectic group religiously. Anomen was a cleric of Helm. Aerie's devotions were to Baervan Windwanderer, though he had heard her mention an Avariel goddess once before. Jaheira was devout to Silvanus. Kysis had never seen Minsc pray before, nor did he ask. The same thus far went with Yoshimo. Imoen had always been a free spirit religiously, so it had never bothered him.

Kysis had always been fascinated with the gods, but never worshipped any of them. Most people automatically assumed that since he was a paladin, he must be devoted to Torm. Perhaps he should have been. Considering where he came from, he did not feel comfortable showing much devotion to one god over another. He wasn't exactly mortal, his human heritage only skin deep, and he knew any and every god in the pantheon would be able to tell that. Whether or not they would be willing to accept a follower from his kind was an entirely different worry.

The services he saw were far less full than he had expected for such a large city like Athkatla. Kysis wondered why people wouldn't be attending. The gods had always been a tangible part of life for everyone. Pausing at one window, Kysis lingered. The singing coming from the church of Lathander sounded off. There was a tone missing from the songs, and when his sapphire eyes searched the choir, he saw that there were large gaps. People were missing.

"The headquarters for the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart are at the south end of the temple district. It is the grandest building of them all. Perhaps, with my standing in the Order, I can locate us some honorable work." Anomen led the way, strides long, powerful. His head was held high.

The cleric's voice, that accent, it was haughty nobility. Kysis was surprised he had not realized it before. The man was nobility, and yet somehow, here he was, wearing armor with messy hair and a weapon slapping at his side, a shield on his back with his pack beneath it. They stayed in a tavern rather than a mansion, ate the slop the commoners did, got dirty and grimy, and Anomen had yet to complain except to say that they could have been doing things of more epic proportions. When asked what, Anomen would fall silent, so Kysis paid it no heed.

Kysis was nervous. For a while he tried walking with his thumbs hooked on his belt. The whole while he fidgeted. His eyes were constantly roaming, taking everything in that he could. As the sun rose higher into the clear blue sky, the number of shadows in the district dissipated, leaving the streets and buildings all brightly illuminated.

There were so many different temples, and in such close vicinity. Kysis had to wonder how they go along. Or if they even tried. There were probably feuds. He could see the priests of Lathander and the clerics of Talos having some… differences of opinion at times. Their followers were of a completely different cut, after all.

"Come now, Kysis, cheer up. You will soon be surrounded by your brethren, a bunch of shiny, light totting paladins. What could be better than that?" There was humor in Yoshimo's tone. And mockery. Kysis couldn't miss it. Brethren. The way Yoshimo used that term was trying, all the more since he was specifically thrusting the double meaning down his throat, as though taunting him with the secret he had given up the night before.

He had almost thought he could trust Yoshimo. All thieves were the same.

Kysis walked faster, hooking his thumbs on his belt again. He was no pleased with this, but he would have to make do. So long as the Order did not show too much interest in his heritage, everything would run smoothly. If they did not even know about it, all the better.

"Here we are!" Anomen stopped walking, a foolish grin spreading on his face. He held his arms up, an unneeded flourish.

The headquarters to the Order were, by far, the largest, grandest buildings in the entire district. Two massive statues, one of the founding knight, the other of Torm, stood guardian of the massive doors leading through the stables. Two knights from the Order stood guard at each door, keeping quiet vigilance in their polished, ornate armor, eyes cool and uncaring.

They fought for the greater good, but they never looked at the smaller pieces of the puzzle, the individual people. Kysis could feel it in the churning of his stomach: this would not go well.

"Come. I shall lead the way. My brothers in arms will surely accept us in and give us the aid we need." Anomen sounded so sure of himself. It was almost believable. Kysis closed his eyes, pausing for a moment. He had not told Anomen yet. If he knew…

The less people who knew, the better, the safer he would be, the safer they would be as a group. Kysis did not want his party members targeted for his heritage anymore, as had been done with the wizard ambushed and captured them.

Too many had died for his blood.

It was now or never.

Kysis opened his eyes again, going inside the door Anomen held open for him. This was either going to be helpful or an absolute disaster.

0 0 0 0 0

The room was large and formal, the small number of people inside making it feel like all the focus was on him, intensified, as there were less people to draw concentration away. Kysis stood, hands resting on the ornate back of a red cushioned chair. The room was pristine, luxurious, and he did not want to ruin that.

As requested, Jaheira, Yoshimo, Aerie and Minsc were in the Order's massive main hall, waiting out of earshot. Anomen was allowed in the dining hall only because he was already a squire of the Order. Kysis was growing more nervous by the moment, fingers fiddling with the designs carved in the gilded wood.

Sir Ryan Trawl was a paladin in good standing, currently stationed in Athkatla to help supervise the smaller activities of the Order within Athkatla. Kysis had heard much about the man. He was stern, pious, and in no way tolerant of people who did not hold themselves so morally high. Kysis had done his best to maintain his honor and make the right moral decisions, but there were certain circumstances beyond his control.

Sir William Reirrac sat near Sir Ryan Trawl, a sort of silent understanding between them. They had no need to communicate. Kysis was not sure what exactly Sir Reirrac did, but he had seen him give orders to a knight before entering the room for this private conference.

Anomen seemed so sure of himself, so sure of the outcome of what was happening. There was a smug smile on his face, shoulders held back, square, ready only for the best of answers, not even thinking the worse could happen. Kysis was not so sure. His shoulders were slightly hunched, mostly hidden by his patchwork of dented, tarnished armor.

He hardly looked the part of paladin at the moment, and he was painfully aware of that at the moment.

The door at the far end of the room opened, Prelate Wesselan, the man in charge of the Order headquarters here, came inside. A squire followed at his heels, head ducked. The squire shot a frightened look at Kysis before returning his gaze to the floor. Kysis frowned, pushing his platinum hair back nervously.

All parties were present now. Everyone stood for the Prelate, the aging paladin sitting down, waving for the others to do so. His old, wise eyes focused on Kysis when he did not sit down. In mock patience, Prelate Wesselan gestured to the chair Kysis stood behind, making it clear that they would not start until Kysis was sitting. For a moment more Kysis lingered, lips pursed, before he pulled the chair out and sat.

It was a comfortable chair, too comfortable for the circumstances.

"So, you are the legendary Kysis of Candlekeep, savior of Baldur's Gate." The Prelate laced his hands together, level gaze never once leaving Kysis. He was like a rock cliff face, unmoving and cold. This is why Kysis had been avoiding the Order as best he could until now. "It is surprising to see you here in Amn."

"You flatter me." Kysis locked his eyes on the table, refusing to look up. He did not want his anxiety to be too obvious, though there was no way to avoid it with so many trained eyes peering at him. This whole situation was precarious. He could feel it teetering over the edge, all the more with this slow, purposeful introduction of sorts.

Kysis looked up long enough to see how Anomen was staring at him in surprise. He could feel his hard work to gain the cleric's trust sliding steadily downhill.

"Hardly. You are far from a normal paladin." Prelate Wesselan leaned forward in his chair, scrutiny obvious. "The Order has been watching your actions with curiosity for a while now. On the surface, you uphold the paladin name with ease."

"My actions are not skin deep."

"Oh?" The Prelate flexed his fingers, folding his hands back together again. "Our sources speak otherwise of you. Despite the goodness your mentor, Gorion, nurtured you with, there is still your nature to contend with."

Kysis wetted his lips, rolling them together. His skin was still ashen, almost grey, which surely did not look good in the eyes of these darkly tanned, weathered paladins. Kysis was only half their age at the very least, which could either act as salt in the wound or minorly towards his advantage, as he was technically still young and malleable.

"My heritage does not play a role in my decision making. I am my own person." Kysis forced himself to stop fidgeting. The paladins around the Prelate were staring at him intently. It was a wonder they had not burnt a hole through him with their combined glares.

"If you were a normal person, trying to peacefully go through your life, I would believe you. Our reports speak of powers you use, unnatural abilities which can only originate from your blood. What of these?"

"I do what I must to serve the cause of good."

"Yes, you avert wars from starting, free slaves, protect dukes and kill evil doers all the time. You put yourself in situations which require death quite often, and that is what worries me." The Prelate put his hands flat on the table. His gloves had an unnatural sheen to them; Kysis could recognize an enchantment, even if magic and the vanquishing of it was not his specialty as a paladin.

Kysis shook his head. "I only kill when there is no other option. I would rather put myself at risk trying to redeem a soul than banish it to the abyss." This he was adamant about. He had tried talking with his brother, tried reasoning with him, with anyone in Baldur's Gate, and that had not worked. He was still trying to wash that guilt off of his hands.

"Do you solemnly swear that you do not enjoy the act of taking life and that you will not, in the future, turn to such enjoyment?"

"So do I swear."

"But you are the only known, living child of the dead Lord of Murder!" Sir Ryan Trawl finally spoke up, anger showing in the red splotches on his face. "Bhaal's blood flows even stronger in you than it did in Sarevok!"

He was shaking, little tremors racing through his body, a display of weakness he futilely tried to repress.

"After I met Kysis, I cast many spells of evil detection, to know what sort of leader Kysis would be, and Helm showed me he was truly a force of goodness. The All Seeing Eye could not have been mistaken." Anomen placed his hand on Kysis' arm, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. Kysis looked sharply over. He could not believe it. His lips fell slightly ajar, shock no doubt full in his eyes. "I am sorry, friend, but I had to be certain."

Kysis forced a smile. It was small and soft, warm, and worked to start melting the ice of the paladins across from him. The three older men looked at one another and nodded, coming to a conclusion.

"In that case, we can allow you to go free… for now." The Prelate's voice was still as stoic and detached as before. The Order was supposed to be impartial, always on the side of right; such control from the Prelate was paramount in their continued influence in Athkatla. "Squire Anomen, I am readjusting your original orders. You are to remain with Kysis and observe his actions with close scrutiny. If any of his heritage manifests itself, you are to report back to the Order immediately."

"You want me to spy on him?!"

"For lack of better terms, yes." The Prelate nodded gravely. "If you fail to do so, you risk your own position within the Order."

Anomen sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. It was a nervous habit of his which Kysis picked up immediately. He obviously had not lost the cleric's trust entirely, his words and actions displaying that quite clearly. It was reassuring. "Yes, Prelate. I will report back any odd happenings to you."

"As I am a busy man, I would prefer you reported directly back to Sir William Reirrac."

Anomen nodded again, leveling a stern stare with the knight in question. Kysis was not pleased, but had no say in the situation.

Hopefully, through this close observation, other secrets of his were not uncovered as well.

"You are both free to go." The Prelate stood, quickly exiting the room with his squire. Sir Reirrac and Sir Trawl followed, slightly slower behind him.

"Kysis, I did not know—"

"Now you do." Kysis stood, turning quickly on his heel.

This was no different than the duke's palace. Though Kysis had been celebrated as a hero, the moment he turned his back, he could hear the whispers. The people of Baldur's Gate had not trusted him. They knew his heritage, and feared him as though he was Sarevok. They thought he could go insane at a moment's notice, have the same homicidal drive his half-brother had in his later days. They thought that any word they said to him could be that trigger, spurring him to start where Sarevok left off.

That was not true in the least, and yet, the people of Baldur's Gate had not cared to see the truth. Kysis wondered if the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart would be the same way.

Only time would tell.


	5. In Need

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Baldur's Gate or anything about it. I just write this fic.

**Warning: **Homosexuality. Yes, Kysis is gay. Is anyone surprised? Ha. Nothing graphic sexually, not even vaguely. Violence, as usual. I meander a lot. This is not proof-read. At all. Umm….

**Author's Note:** Currently, I am over 5k ahead of where I should be if I were just keeping on pace with LDWriMo (which is about 1700 a day). If my muse has a dry spell, I have breathing room, so that's a relief. Hopefully I can keep up this pace… though yesterday I only made 1500. Boo.

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part V: In Need**

The tavern was packed with more patrons than usual, the pounding tempest outside its doors no doubt the explanation. The rain was near deafening, the crowd shouting over it even louder. Kysis could feel the beginning of a headache pressing at his temples, threatening to spread. If the storm did not break, he knew they would not make much progress in finding work, or doing much of anything.

Kysis stood, pushing his chair back. Quickly he stretched, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. It was something he had been doing to relax himself for years. It worked now, easing some of the tension he felt building.

Rotating his neck, rubbing the back of it, Kysis walked towards the proprietors of the tavern, Bernard and Lehtinan. Jaheira knew Bernard from her official occupation as a Harper; the large man seemed to be a friend of the Harpers, and a good source of information as well. Lehtinan… Lehtinan was a quiet, dark man, and what exactly he did, Kysis was not sure.

It was Lehtinan Kysis walked up to today.

"Hello. You're Lehtinan, correct? I'm Kysis." Kysis offered a smile and his hand forward, neither of which garnered responses. Lehtinan watched him with a guarded expression. He was always looking at people suspiciously, as though all of them were carrying daggers under their cloaks. "I was wondering if there was some place here in the tavern without this massive crowd. And noise."

Lehtinan glanced over the crowd, eyes narrowed, a frown cutting harshly through his face. He wasn't terribly old, but life hadn't treated him particularly well. His skin was like old, cracked leather, fingers rough and calloused from hard work. When he spoke, it was low and grating, hissing almost just to get the words out. "Possibly."

One word was not much to go by, but Kysis went with it. "Well, I'm interested. So long as I can bring my companions with me, I'll be happy."

"Oh, would you now?"

Kysis nodded. "Yes. I'm looking for entertainment these dullards cannot deliver." Kysis glanced at the throng of people, looking as disinterested as he could. He was charismatic, but he did not like lying. It was probably showing through. "I'm sure you have something far more interesting we could be doing… for coin, of course."

"Yes, of course. I will talk to the guards for you. The back rooms are open for your entertainment." Lehtinan gave him a slanted smirk, a shiver crawling up Kysis' spine as the man walked away. Kysis quickly walked over to Jaheira, passing along the news that they were now allowed, as a group, into the back rooms of the Copper Coronet.

The dream still lingered in his head. Kysis wasn't sure if he could venture through those doors quite yet.

0 0 0 0 0

It was still raining, streets muddy, pools of dirty water forming here and there. Kysis pushed up his hood, tugging his cloak tight. The coarse cloth did not do much to keep the water out, but it did add some warmth, some barrier, which he would be lacking otherwise. The others, for the most part, were in the same predicament. Anomen and Aerie had their own cloaks, nicer ones which were sealed against water. Yoshimo had no cloak, but seemed perfectly content finding creative ways to keep out of the rain, darting between buildings like a shadow.

Kysis walked quickly, boots sticking to the ground here and there, but nothing he couldn't easily free himself of. Since what happened at the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, Kysis and Anomen had not spoken. It was a nervous silence. Kysis could feel Anomen's eyes on almost everything he did, and though he knew there was nothing spiteful or evil to find, he was worried that his actions might be twisted.

That was not something he could concentrate on now. Kysis kept walking, repressing a shiver as a driblet of water found its way down his back. The whole of Athkatla was veiled in a shroud of storm, it seemed, and the tempest was doing little for their spirits.

Considering the lack of work to be found at the moment, he had decided, rather than hiding in the yet to be explored back rooms of the Copper Coronet, he would lead on elsewhere, in hopes that something crossed their path.

"Where to, fearless leader?"

Kysis turned his head, Jaheira coming up to stride with him. She was shorter than him, elven blood strongly apparent in her lithe frame. Kysis slowed his pace slightly. His long, gliding steps were difficult for even someone as tall as Anomen to keep up with, much less the clumsily carried weight of Minsc.

"I don't know."

"Oh? It seems as though Irenicus robbed you of more than just your gear. What happened to you? We might as well be back in the Copper Coronet sulking."

Kysis flinched at the naming of their captor. Irenicus. The name brought back a flood of memories, entirely unpleasant ones, a taint which he had been trying night and day to fight off. He still dreamed about the man, his various knives and hooks and the spells which crackled from his fingertips. A shudder captured his shoulders, Kysis failing to repress it. Yes. Irenicus had taken much from him.

"I'm sorry, Kysis. That was… out of line of me."

"It's understandable. You lost your husband." Kysis almost said his name, Khalid, but did not want to open old wounds. It was inevitable, considering the subject was already mentioned. They had found Khalid's body, terribly mutilated, disfigured, not even enough left to try and resurrect, if it was even possible at that moment. It was a horrific sight, one which Kysis wished Jaheira had not had to see. "We're all in shock still."

"That doesn't make it excusable." Jaheira slowed her pace, falling away from Kysis. He turned his head to watch her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the road ahead. The street was cobbled now. They were nearing the cemetery.

Rather than turning away, as he had intended to, he went down the winding path into the grand gates of the city cemetery. The rain seemed quieter there, as though it was being respectful. Kysis took a deep breath, pushing his hood back. The cemetery seemed empty, except for a few mourners here and there. When they had the money, Kysis wanted to purchase markers for those they lost beneath the Promenade. It was a sentiment he was sure his companions would approve of.

"Excuse me Sir, if I might bend your ear for a moment?"

Kysis quickly walked down the small stone stairs, approaching the cleric who hailed him. The man was practically drenched, looked wary, but the most notable thing about him was his companion, a little girl in fine garb, with tear streaked cheeks. The girl was practically hiding behind Kysis as though he was a monster.

Children had always been able to sense such things better.

"Sir, you seem the fine sort. I… my charge her, Risa, lost her parents just a few days past and the church is no place for a little girl."

"I am an adventurer, Noble Priest, with no home to call my own. The road is no place for a girl her age, either." Kysis watched Risa, how she was shaking. She hadn't made a sound since his approach. Kysis' heart went out to her, being an orphan himself, but there was little he could do. "If I can find someone who is a more suitable Guardian, I shall bring them."

"Thank you, Sir."

Turning, Kysis started up the steps again to rejoin the others, the priest's voice stopping him again.

"The rain, it shimmers around you, more silver than the grey sheets blanketing the city."

His step faltered. He had to stop his ascent. Kysis looked up, at the clouds. There seemed no difference to him.

"There are many divine eyes on you, Sir."

Kysis tried not to flinch. He did not want divine eyes on him, but he knew why they watched. He was Bhaalspawn, and that meant there was a divine spark in him. Alaundo's prophecies spoke that he would become the next Lord of Murder. That was the last thing a paladin wished to aspire to.

Not looking back, Kysis returned to his ascent, waving for the others to follow. Though he wanted to get away from the press of the crowds in the Slums and the Copper Coronet in particular, this was more than just an opportunity to breathe and walk and think. He could find a place for his fallen comrades.

Most of the cemetery was made of large, family mausoleums, some more expansive than others. Many were build up on a hill, higher and higher to show some form of superiority, even after death. Kysis had never understood the process, but at the same time, he knew he would not have a body to bury. Like Sarevok, he would fall into ashes the moment his divine soul left his body. Considering what he was, he doubted anyone would want to keep those ashes. He was the only one who had cared for Sarevok's, after all.

A Halfling couple stood over a small headstone, weeping. Kysis could see from there the inscription on the stone, mourning a young son. A young woman sat by another stone on her cloak, crying. The headstone stated he was a soldier, fallen in combat on far away shores. There was a funeral taking place, a drunk priest presiding over the ceremonies. It was a mockery of death, violating the burial's sanctity, but there was nothing he could do about it but steer clear.

As they come up the staircase, Kysis spotted a man in armor, highly polished, almost covering from head to foot. His dark brown hair was matted back with rain water, eyes dull and sad. He was staring at a row of two fresh graves, one small, one adult sized. Kysis knew the man was a kindred spirit, at least in the way of being paladins, if nothing more.

With slow, uncertain steps, Kysis approached, coming to stand beside him. The man looked over, about to speak, but he stopped himself. The paladin stared at the graves for a moment longer, and then he spoke, of his own volition, letting it spill out. "They trusted me. I promised to protect them. She was young and naïve, and her son was bright. He was so eager to learn everything. I… I couldn't protect them. A raid stormed their house while I was away on the front lines. They burned…" The paladin looked down, jaw trembling as he fought to keep his emotions bottled in, as all of their order were instructed to do.

"It was not your fault. You could not have known."

"I vowed to protect them. I failed them." The paladin's shoulders sagged, armor creaking. "I do not know if I can regain my honor…"

"I think I know of a way." Kysis placed a hand on his shoulder. The metal was smooth, cold, water running quickly over it. The man was a paladin in good standing, if his armor was anything to judge by. He was not travel worn, and after the loss, the Order was bound to keep him in Athkatla a while yet. "There is a girl, an orphan, and she is need of a guardian. Her parents were murdered, and the priests caring for her can no longer keep her."

The paladin looked up. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Kysis' heart jumped, fluttering. He had to fight back the slight flush he could feel coloring his cheeks.

"Yes, please, show me the way."

Kysis nodded with a small smile, leading the paladin through the cemetery while respectfully avoiding the disrespectful funeral. Quickly, they were back at the family tomb, Kysis keeping back as the paladin walked forward. "Greetings, Priest. I understand that this girl is in need of a guardian?"

"Yes, Lord Paladin. She—"

"My name is Risa." The girl stepped out from behind her priest guardian, looking up at the man with large, awed eyes. "Why do you want me? Don't you have a family, Mister?"

With a sad smile, the man knelt down. "No. My family… my family died and…"

"Oh, that's horrible. Can we be family?" Risa reached her hand out, grabbing the paladin's. Kysis couldn't stop watching, feeling a smile tugging at his own lips.

"Yes, Risa. We can be family." The paladin stood. "Do you know of my god, Torm?"

Risa shook her head, wrinkling her noise. Kysis was barely paying attention to her.

"Come then. I'll take you about the Order and teach you all about it." The paladin slowly started back out of the cemetery, Risa grasping his hand and quickly following. Her tears had dried, and that was what mattered. It had to have been fate, those two both in the cemetery at the same time. They were all bound to fate.

"Thank you. I was not expecting you to come back." The priest smiled. "Take this, for your good deed." He offered a pouch out, pressing it to Kysis' hand.

"No, I don't need—"

"I insist. It is the least I can do." The priest went before any more protest could be mounted. The paladin deserved it more than Kysis, but the paladin was already gone.

Tying the pouch to his belt, Kysis rejoined the group. He would see how much the priest had given him later.

0 0 0 0 0

"You did a good thing, helping that paladin and the orphan." Anomen sat down next to him, offering a friendly, if condescending, smile. That was just his way. Kysis could hear the but coming from a mile away. "However, I must ask, did you know that paladin? The few times I have seen him in the Order, he has always proved very quiet and slow to trust, which is why he has not advanced very far in rank since joining. The way he just started talking to you—"

"Kysis is very charismatic. I haven't known him very long, but I trust him." Aerie smiled softly, Kysis looking over only to see her glance sharply away. She watched him nearly as much as Anomen did, though the observation was with different motive.

Anomen shook his head, smile faltering. "It was the way you two stood next to each other. You do know him? People who have never met one another do not touch so comfortably."

He wished they did know each other, though he would not dare speak that aloud. Yes, they had touched, if briefly, and had been comfortable in each other's space, but for different reasons, Kysis was certain. The paladin had probably been able to sense the similar call to duty in Kysis and was thus calmed by it in his time of grief. Kysis… The man was attractive, to say the very least. He was probably the youngest paladin of the Order in Athkatla as well, not nearing his grave like everyone else. That youth, vitality, charm…

If he wasn't careful, he might make himself blush again.

"No. I had never met him before." Kysis crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. The look he gave Anomen was challenging, testy. He had to side-track the cleric as quickly as possible. "As a knight, you will have to be able to make people feel absolutely comfortable and safe in your presence by a mere glance."

"I know what I need to become a knight!" Anomen stood up in a huff, going back to his room. He was much like a child at times. Kysis could see his tantrums coming. The cleric had a long way to go before he would make an acceptable knight of the Order, not that he would admit it. That was something they would have to work on.

An eruption of giggles suddenly came from Aerie, a bright grin on her face. "Oh Kysis, why do you tease him? He's so easy to irritate." She kept giggling, sound pure and innocent. It showed her young age. Though older than Kysis, in elven terms, she was actually younger. Now and then it would come out, but not often enough. They were all too jaded for their age.

"How much did the priest give you?" Jaheira slid into the seat Anomen had been in moments before, her seriousness banishing that momentary merriment.

"A thousand gold. It's a small fortune but…" Kysis sighed. "We still have a long way to go." He was keeping careful track of everything they had. Quayle had given them Kalah's possessions, some of which was of use, the rest they sold. Kysis fiddled with the ring on his right pinky finger; it was the Ring of Human Influence which Kalah had worn and used to charm everyone in the circus. The girdle Kalah had was too small for him, Jaheira sporting it instead. It had proven useful against the swords many of the local ruffians used.

They were still nowhere near acceptable gear.

"Any ideas?"

Kysis had to wonder if Jaheira was working for the Harpers in the same way Anomen was currently deployed by the Order. The more questions Jaheira asked of him, the more he believed it. He chose his words carefully. "There may be work if we enquire in the Temple District or the Government District. We could always try there tomorrow."

"My friend, I believe I have found an answer for you." Yoshimo leaned on the back of Kysis' chair, face next to his. The scarred thief looked jolly as always. Kysis had not heard him approaching; that was expected of a thief, especially in such a loud tavern.

"Speak, Yoshimo. Stop dawdling." Jaheira snapped, voice seething. She was not fond of Yoshimo, or the fact that he was always enquiring into her health.

Yoshimo raised his hands in surrender before pointing across the room. Kysis followed the line of his finger, through the bustling crowd. There stood a woman in a blue and brown dress, a dagger tied to her belt. There were smudges on her face, but her red hair was too clean, too neat. Kysis could see the dim tavern light glint off a ring on her finger, the stone in it large enough to draw his attention, even from there. A noblewoman, in the slums, and looking mussed up; there was definitely something wrong.

Standing, Kysis rounded his chair, making quick strides across the room. People in his path parted, not really even glancing at him as they did so. It was unnerving, but not at the forefront of his thoughts, going ignored for now. The woman turned as he approached, stopping in mid-sentence. Kysis had not heard what she was saying.

"Oh, thank goodness! I was afraid there wasn't a single adventurer in this place!" She placed a hand over her heart, relief over-exaggerated. From what Kysis had seen of Athkatla's nobles, she fit right in minus the dirt smudge on her left cheek.

"I understand that you are in need of help?"

"Yes! Please, we must go right away!" Nalia reached out for his hand, grabbing for it. Kysis moved it away quickly enough to stop her. "What are you waiting for?"

How demanding she was fit right in as well. "I can't just go running in blindly. What is the problem?"

"There is no time! My Keep is under attack! We have to leave right away. I'll travel with you. I'm useful, I swear!"

The others had come up as well. They had their packs in hand, ready to leave. Minsc had Kysis' pack as well, shouldering both with ease.

"The battlefield is no place for you." Kysis gave the woman a quick look over. Looking at her, one might think she came from a banquet rather than a Keep under assault. "Where is it? We can help." Kysis motioned back towards Minsc, the lumbering ranger pulling out their map and handing it over. Kysis spread the map. It was crude, unfinished, with many things left out, but they did not have the money to go to an actual cartographer.

The woman quickly pointed at a spot on the map. "This is my Keep. My name is Nalia De'Arnise. We've set up a palisade on the south end of the Keep. Please, hurry!"

"I will." Kysis took note of the place on the map, knowing he would have to actually mark it later. Hopefully they did not overshoot it.

"If we go now, I can guide you. I'll stay out of the way."

Kysis glanced back at his companions. They nodded. This was their first chance to actually do something, so there was no real choice. "Lead the way."

0 0 0 0 0

The countryside of Amn was lush, but not nearly as forested as the far north. Most of the trek was over open fields under the bright, hot sun. Kysis was thankful they were not further south. Now and then they would get shade, at least, little clusters of trees speckling their path. It was already late in the day, and by the time the sun started slanting, long shadows pulling across the terrain, they were surrounded in trees again.

Nalia turned, pressing a finger to her lips. "Shhh." With that, she began creeping, hiking up her skirt to clear the foliage they were trekking through. It was getting dark, and quickly.

Through the trees, Kysis could see stone now and then. They were at the Keep, its walls, he was not sure what. Not enough was visible. He kept following close behind, the others trailing after him. The clearing was sudden, unexpected. Nalia hurried out into the opening. In its center was a makeshift wooden structure with armed guards outside. They tensed at first, lowering only when Nalia waved.

There was not much room inside the palisade, just enough to move around in, but little else. The guards who had escaped were all there, polishing weapons, waiting. A man in a full suit of armor approached them, face grim, as was his greeting, a wary nod.

"Who are these people?" His voice was gruff, verging on hoarse. There were dark circles under his eyes. Kysis wondered how long the assault had been going on.

"Captain Arat, this is Kysis, and his companions." Nalia sounded out of breath, a flush to her cheeks. The march from Athkatla straight to the Keep had been difficult on her. She had probably just arrived from the Keep to the Copper Coronet when Yoshimo spotted to her, adding to it. There was no time for pity.

"What are the enemy forces looking like?" Kysis did not feel further introductions were necessary. This was urgent; they could waste no more time. Once everyone was safe, they could chat. "I do not want to run into this blindly."

"Mistress Nalia has not told you?" Captain Arat shot a sharp glance at Nalia, disapproval everywhere on his face. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the Captain turned back to Kysis. "We are overrun by trolls and snake-men."

Trolls were ghastly creatures with the ability to regenerate faster than most blades could inflict damage. Kysis remembered dealing with trolls once in the past, though his memory of it was hazy now. He would probably never regain all of his memories. As for the snake-men, they sounded like Yuan-Ti, which Kysis had never encountered. From what he had read, he knew some of them were very magically talented, which could make them extremely dangerous foes.

Storming in the front gates was out of the question. Any direct assault would be suicide. Kysis glanced around. There were trees all around the Keep; that would provide them with some secrecy. Getting in was still the main problem, though. "How do you expect us to get in there?"

"There is a little door, on the side of the Keep. I used to use it to sneak out as a child. It leads into some storage rooms, and the armory is beyond that. Daleson should still be in there." Nalia wrung her hands together with fright. "Will you help?"

"Of course! Where there is need, we shall be there to fulfill it!" Anomen held his head up high, beating his breast with an armored fist. Though he did not agree with the flare, Kysis did nod in agreement.

The problem was that there were so many people in need of something, in the City of Coin itself.

"Show us this entrance, and we shall begin immediately." Kysis motioned for Nalia to lead the way once more. Despite her frazzled nature, she was quick to jump into action.

It was time to win back her Keep for her.


	6. Political War Games

**Disclaimer:** I do not own BG2 or any of that stuff. Yes, I make an ode to Indiana Jones in this. I do not own Indie either. This fic and Kysis are my own, though. Cernick is inspired loosely by the Romantic Endeavors mod; ie, the thought of Cernick's sexuality is what I took from there.

**Warning:** yaoi, homosexuality, etc, etc, all those different names. Fantasy violence. Me being a slow writer.

**Author's Note:** My muse died. I need to play BG2 again to wake my muse back up. I also haven't edited this at all yet. That will be done in the future. Please, please, please R&R. My muses survive off reviews, and right now… yeah, they're starving.

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part VI: Political War Games**

The Keep was overrun, trolls of all kinds lurking around every corner, Yuan-Ti scattered here and there, seeming to act more as commanders than simple soldiers. This was too organized for a simple troll raid. Someone, or something, was behind this, and the further he traveled into the Keep, the more he believed it.

There were minimal survivors. Kysis had seen three people on the main floor thus far, and had only managed to save one of them. The trolls were too fast. The De-Arnise servants were unprotected, untrained, and it was showing. On the second floor, the situation was about the same. Lord De-Arnise's room was empty but surprisingly pristine. The crazed head of the guards was barricaded in one of the backrooms, and attacked them upon entry.

So far, they had only saved Daleson, Nalia's aunt, and the aunt's guard. The woman had been harsh, but her guard expressed gratitude for the both of them, which smoothed over any aggravation he felt. Exasperation was a better word for it. Kysis sighed.

Currently they were barricaded in the aunt's room, one of the few safe places in the Keep. It was well into the night, they were tired, lagging. It was not safe to keep going. Kysis sat, back against the wall. He preferred having privacy, but that was not possible at the moment, nor was it really possible on the road. There was nothing he could do but put up with it.

"May I see the flail?" Aerie bent down, pointing at the flail in question. Both Daleson and Nalia's aunt had instructed him to assemble the three pieces of the flail.

Kysis nodded, lifting up the ornate handle for Aerie to take. Only two of the flail's three heads had been located and attached and already Kysis could feel the magic humming in it. One of the flail heads was icy cold to the touch and he noticed it could freeze creatures or anything else it happened to hit at times. The other head was seething with acid, not to be handled without gloves. Kysis wasn't sure how anyone would be able to travel with such a weapon in their pack, but apparently the Lord De'Arnise had done it at one point. There had to be a holder for it somewhere.

"It's really heavy." Aerie tried to smile, lip wobbling. She had trouble lifting it up. There was no way she would be able to fight with it. Kysis had been using it in his right hand, sword comfortably back in his left, and the weapon proved to be very effective against the trolls plaguing the Keep. It was a shame the Lord De'Arnise had not been able to assemble the flail in time.

"There is something strange about this wall." Yoshimo frowned, arms crossed as he stared at the back wall of the room. He sat down on the oversized, luxurious bed, obviously not caring that the bed's owner might faint of fright if she knew any of them touched it. Rather than laughing about it, Kysis turned his gaze to the wall in question, eyes moving across the neatly placed stones, the thin lines of mortar holding it all together. "It looks like there is mortar missing."

Yoshimo stood again, running his palm over the wall.

There was supposed to be an entrance to the old dungeon somewhere on the second floor, still accessible though the Lord De'Arnise had walled it up sometime in the past.

With a huff, Aerie tried to lift the flail more, only getting it a little higher before it clanged back to the floor. Kysis smiled, pushing himself up using the wall. Coming up behind her, Kysis took a hold on the flail handle as well, lifting the flail for Aerie though he left a little of the weight for her, so she felt like she was doing something. Aerie smiled, striking at the air with it. Kysis kept careful control so the young elf did not hurt herself, but otherwise humored her.

Aerie turned around, looking up at him with big eyes and a wide smile. "Thank you, Kysis."

From across the room, Jaheira cleared her throat loudly. Aerie looked over, blond brows drawing in, lips pursed in anger. She didn't say anything, but quickly walked away, leaving Kysis standing there with the flail in hand. When there was some privacy, Kysis would have to thank Jaheira, though he wished she would herd Aerie away from him with more tact. There didn't need to be any more tension in the group than there already was.

"Why must you always be mewling for Kysis' attention, girl? Grow a spine." Jaheira picked at her armor, fiddling with a strap.

"I am not 'mewling' for Kysis' attention, Jaheira. Why is it that every time I try talking to Kysis, you have to drive a wedge between us?" Aerie glared from across the room, sitting in a huff. Kysis did not want to have to listen to those two argue all night.

"Kysis has far more to worry about right now without adding a moping, naïve Avariel clinging to his side like an extra weight."

"I'm not an extra weight! I have proven quite useful so far! Why, I—"

"Both of you, stop!" Kysis turned, flail swishing in the air like drawing an invisible line between the two, dividing the room into halves. Kysis glanced side to side, at each of them, irritation written clearly on his pale face. "We do not have the time for this. Right now we are all tired and need rest. We're all a little irritable." He did not really know what to say to them.

Jaheira was his long time companion and guardian. She had always been centered, but now, with Khalid dead, she seemed to have her feet more firmly on the ground. Kysis trusted her, but thought her worries concerning him and Aerie were misguided. There _was _nothing to worry about.

As for Aerie… Kysis was not sure what he thought about her. She was fairly innocent to the evils of the world, not knowing of them and certainly not understanding them. She was useful with her magics and clerical abilities, but Anomen and Jaheira could both cast the same clerical spells and more. Imoen was a better mage than Aerie, but, without Imoen, the group was without anyone to help them with magic. Aerie was necessary for now.

Beyond that, there was no guarantee.

Glancing between them again, Kysis nodded in satisfaction. They did not look happy, but they were no longer squabbling. Jaheira was preparing her bedroll. Thankfully the room was large and sported a bolt on the door, which they had already locked. The key had some sort of magic to it, keeping the door from being broken in. They were safe.

"So, we resume our search for the cellar stairs tomorrow?" Anomen unfurled his bedroll with a snap of his arms, laying it down as it fell. It was not perfectly straight, but Anomen did not move to correct it, instead sitting down. There was nothing left for him to do but lay down; they were sleeping in their armor tonight.

"Yes. I noticed while up in the ramparts that the drawbridge was up. If we lower it, the guards will be able to make it in the Keep and help us." Kysis put the flail back in the corner, propping it up so the flail heads were suspended in the air. Quickly he laid out his bed roll, trying to make it at least look comfortable. "If the numbers Daleson gave us are accurate, we will need it."

"Don't have so little faith in yourself." Jaheira laid down, pulling her cloak over herself, shivering. There was nothing they could do other than stir the fire in the fireplace. Further disturbing the noblewoman's room was out of the question. "You were the one to destroy Sarevok, without our help."

"I had the help of equipment. Our gear is gone now." Kysis did not lie down. He always volunteered for first watch, this night no different. He would not be able to sleep for a while yet.

"It wasn't your gear Kysis. It was you. Never doubt that." Jaheira rolled so her back was facing him, blowing out the lantern they had been carrying with them in the back halls of the Keep. As soon as the sun had gone down, that lantern had been paramount in their survival. Not all of them had the ability to see in the dark like Aerie and Jaheira, after all.

The others finally settled down and let fatigue take over. Soon, Kysis was just left with their rhythmical breathing and the crackling fire beside him.

0 0 0 0 0

"Ah-ha! I have it!" Yoshimo's voice boomed in the small room, full of excitement and vigor not suitable for that awfully early in the morning. With a groan, Kysis rolled over, opening his eyes to slits. Yoshimo was laying with his belly on the floor, his hand half gone into the wall… or a small slit at the bottom of the wall. A click sounded, Yoshimo pulling his hand back quickly as the door slid to the side, revealing a narrow stone passageway.

With a jolt, Kysis sat up, hand flying immediately for the hilt of the flail. The room was small, bare stone with lightless torches. There were no enemies in sight. Standing, Kysis grabbed the long metal tongs from beside the fireplace, picking out a lit piece of wood. Crossing into the tiny chamber, he lit both torches. They framed a small staircase which led up into a wall, a doorway shaped wall inset into the main one.

"Yoshimo, I think this is another door." Kysis blew out the chunk of wood he still held, tossing it aside. Raising the tongs, he lowered them to tap on the wall, and the metal passed straight through it. The stone rippled under the intrusion before vanishing all together, revealing the chamber beyond it.

The room was massive, rows of flat columns rising on either side. To the left there was nothing, but to the right stood a line of Golems, clay and stone and iron, an intimidating but inactive force. At the far end of the hallway stood three lone statues, each holding different items in their outstretched palms.

If this was not done delicately, they would have a group of hostile golems attacking them.

"Can you see it?" Kysis kept his voice a low whisper, only looking at the statues on the far wall from the corner of his eyes. His lips were slightly parted, a touch of a smile tugging at their edges. It almost looked devious. "The last head of the flail is there on the far left statue."

"Yes, I see it." Yoshimo frowned, black brows drawing him. His eyes were calculating, tabulating risks and rewards. There were many items held by the statues, all of them buzzing with enchantments.

"Do you think you can remove the flail head without triggering its defense system?"

Yoshimo snorted. "Do I think I can? Of course. Watch how it is done." With that, Yoshimo slipped into the shadows, barely discernable even to Kysis' keen eyes. If he was an elf, or a thief himself, Kysis would have had an easier time spotting him.

Golems rarely worked on sight alone, many, including the ones their captor kept, being blind. Kysis couldn't tell if these ones were seeing. However, he was almost certain these golems were directly tied, no doubt by magic, to the statues and the weight put on the stone by those items. It seemed Yoshimo had the same idea.

Kneeling, Yoshimo pulled a large stone from the floor, tossing it in his hand a few times before nodding. The thief slipped back into the shadows, Kysis only knowing his position when the flail head began to move, a rock quickly taking its place on the pedestal. The flail head hovered there in the air for a moment and then vanished into the shadows, Yoshimo quickly sneaking back out of the long chamber with a sigh of relief.

The simple switch had worked. It was about the weight.

Kysis let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, taking the flail head as it was offered to him. Separated from the hilt, it did not have its full power, not harming his bare hands, thankfully. He was scarred enough already.

The two returned to the bedroom, Kysis first with the flail head held up. "We need to complete the flail, and then we can open the gates. I have a feeling it will draw out the main troll forces, and with the back-up provided by the De'Arnise guards, we should be able to defeat them."

After a moment, his companions, all awake by now, nodded in agreement.

0 0 0 0 0

The controls for the Keep's gates were well guarded, but not well enough. With the fully assembled Flail of Ages, the trolls fell far more easily. They did not need to use spells to finish the regenerating creatures off, making the entire process easier and faster. Aerie could save her magic for more important things, like the battle to come.

Thus far, Kysis had seen no leader to these troops, but they were too organized to be without one. That leader had to be somewhere ahead, and to command trolls and Yuan-Ti like that, they had to be powerful. Kysis was not entirely looking forward to it. Duty kept him going. Nalia was counting on them, after all.

With a heave, Kysis pulled on the massive wheel, grunting. His hands were beginning to slip and it had not budged. His arms shook, core trembling, and the wheel barely moved. Stopping, Kysis took a deep breath, wiping the little droplets of sweat from his forehead.

If the others were not right there, scrutinizing him, he would have done it easily. The blood coursing through his veins had power, power he knew how to harvest, somewhat. Anomen was staring at him, not offering to help, but rather staring down the wall at the guards waiting to storm in. Minsc was further down the wall, keeping a watch on the Keep doors. Jaheira was keeping Aerie out of the way and Yoshimo was… Kysis didn't know where Yoshimo was.

There was no time. The doors to the right of the main courtyard banged open, a greater Yuan-Ti bursting through it. Trolls followed it.

Kysis whispered a quick prayer under his breath, asking for forgiveness as he concentrated his mind inward. He could feel his blood pumping through his veins, pulling slowing through it, grinding about his body. He could feel the darkness in there, lying dormant for now, watching, waiting. It was that darkness he focused on.

The surge of strength was almost instantaneous, Kysis pulling quickly, with all his might. The wheel turned, gate shuddering. It budged. With another stifled-half noise, Kysis shifted his hands, pulling again. The gate was coming up, drawbridge falling down. It thudded into place.

De'Arnise guards flooded the courtyard, trolls quickly launching at them. Kysis turned in time to see the start of the fight. Guards lit the tips of their arrows, firing off at the trolls. Other guards drew their swords and charged. Yoshimo pulled from the shadows by the splintered Keep door, jumping up, katana flashing as he jabbed it into the connective tissue between the shoulder and neck of the greater Yuan-Ti.

Yoshimo jumped back, readjusting his hold on his katana in time to block an attack from the Yuan-Ti. The snake man's left arm was limp and he was bleeding profusely, but he was not dead. The trolls were attacking with astonishing force. The guards were under-armed. Kysis turned, breaking into a sprint. His blood felt like it was boiling. It probably was.

If he did not hurry, the whole De'Arnise force would be lost.

With a leap, Kysis swung himself over the balcony edge, jumping down and landing easily. Right now, he was thankful for his light, maneuverable armor. In a smooth motion, he unsheathed his sword and the flail. He was quick to jump into the flail.

The first troll fell with a serious of slashes and a final blow from the flail, knocking the troll down. In a matter of seconds, three flaming arrows slammed into it, body bursting into flame, withering into a black crisp. Kysis launched at the next one, kicking a rock up into its twisted, putrid face to distract it from the guard it was assaulting. A claw swiped down at him, sword brought up to block it. Kysis raked the flail across its exposed middle, the troll letting out a retched scream. It stumbled backwards.

A sword slammed through it from behind, goo-covered tip pointed at Kysis. The troll looked down as though in surprise, Kysis taking that advantage, attacking full on. Soon it, too, was full of arrows, a smoldering pile.

The man on the other side of the troll nodded at Kysis, their eyes locking for a moment. Those hazel eyes were warm. Kysis blinked once, twice, and then returned to the battle. The greater Yuan-Ti finally succumbed, just one troll left. They were side by side during that final result, countering for one another, blocking attacks, slashing, and then the troll was down, Kysis touching his flail to the creature, acid rippling through its limbs, dissolving them into nothingness.

"You must be Kysis."

Kysis turned, watching as the guard removed his helmet. There was a kind smile on his face. Almost nervously, he ran a gloved hand back over his dark blond hair, shoving it out of his face. Kysis nodded. "And you…?"

"Cernick." The guard bit his lip, looking down for a moment. There was a slight flush on his cheeks; Kysis wasn't sure if it was from the exertion of the battle or from their current conversation. "Good luck."

The way Cernick looked at him was not just simple respect or awe even. It was verging on adoration. Kysis felt a lump forming in his throat. His heart was fluttering in a different way now, not the frantic patter of his damned heritage but almost like butterflies. Kysis had to look away, take a deep breath to regain his concentration. "Thank you, Cernick."

"Kysis, let's go! We have the advantage!" Jaheira called out, anger tinting her voice. She did not look pleased. Turning, Jaheira stormed into the Keep, scimitar and shield in hand. Kysis gave Cernick a pleading, apologetic look before going as well.

Jaheira was right. They were wasting the upper hand.

0 0 0 0 0

A jolt ran through him, up his arm, crawling under his skin. His head pounded, painfully throbbing. Kysis flinched. For a moment his legs trembled, but he managed to regain control, taking measured breaths, forcing himself not to close his eyes though they ached. Drawing on the power passed down to him from his dead father always did this to him, always garnered this reaction, and yet he was finding himself placed in situations that required it more and more. It was a difficult balance to deal with.

Slowly, Kysis holstered his weapons. The head troll, the leader of this attack, was dead. The problem was that they did not know who put the troll up to it, who this greater one was, any of it. That worried him. There would be more trouble in the future.

But, for now, the Keep was safe.

"Oh no…" Aerie pressed her hand to her mouth, as though that would keep her horror in. She took a step forward. In the massive, cathedral domed chamber of the De'Arnise shrine, she seemed to barely move. The expanse stretched on and on before coming to an end at a broken column and a statue. Before that broken column was a body.

From the fine clothing, the face, Kysis knew who it was. Lord De'Arnise. Nalia was truly his daughter, the resemblance blinding, even though the Lord De'Arnise had a weathered face lined with wrinkles and Nalia was still youthful.

It would hurt to deliver the news, but he had to. He had saved the Keep, but failed to save its owner. That was Nalia's job now.

Considering the political climate in Athkatla, and Amn in general, Kysis knew this was not over. The trolls were gone, but the sharks that were Athkatla's nobles were still there. It was a circle Nalia was reluctant to be categorized in, but was a member none the less. This definitely was not over.


	7. Notoriety

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Baldur's Gate or any of that stuff.

**Warnings: **yaoi. Don't like it, don't read it. Dark themes.

**Author's Note: **I seriously need some R&R here. I know people are reading this fic. It has more views that the Memory of Falling and A Soul Seeking Holy for this month. Now if only some of that could be REVIEWS. *sigh*

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part VII: Notoriety**

Just a week later, the Keep seemed like an entirely different place. Kysis took an unsure step into the main hall, sapphire gaze raking over the scrubbed stone walls, the various colorful banners hanging here and there. The numerous tables were laid out with nice plates and cutlery, all recently polished. Servants were walking around tidying it all, turning briefly to bow at Kysis as he entered the room before going back to their work.

It was strange, having people treat him so. They did not know what he was. Kysis took a deep breath, continuing into the room. When Nalia had invited the group back to the Keep, in thanks, Kysis had been reluctant at first. Now he was questioning this even more.

"Oh! You made it!" Nalia's voice was bright, warm as always. She lifted her rich skirts a little, revealing her ankles as she rushed up to him. For a moment it looked as though she might hug Kysis and he braced himself, only to find she stopped short. There was a smile on her face as she spoke again. "I am so glad you convinced me not to give up on the Keep, Kysis. I am certain the Roenalls will not give up without a fight, but I would welcome the struggle before putting my people through their narcissistic rule."

That issue had not changed either. Kysis had been in attendance for the Lord De'Arnise's funeral, only to be appalled by Isaea Roenall's behavior. He was the only man Kysis had ever met who would throw a temper tantrum at another man's funeral, speaking volumes as to his character and also explaining why, exactly, Nalia wanted nothing to do with him.

"What is all this?" Kysis surveyed the room again, now just filled with busy servants. Considering how many places were set, there were going to be a lot of people. This looked like an important event, and Kysis felt sorely out of place with his beaten up, mix-match of armor and his old, coarse clothing. This dinner set up was for nobles; he was hardly presentable.

"It is to celebrate the liberation of the Keep and its new beginning." Nalia seemed very pleased with herself, something Kysis did not want to ruin for her. "And in honor of our saviors."

That last part was what Kysis had been dreading. "I am in no condition to be paraded before Athkatla's nobility, nor do I want to be." Kysis cringed at the pleading look Nalia gave him. "I am truly sorry, but look at me. I have no place in these settings."

"Please, you are the guest of honor! You are a paladin and very charismatic. If they do not like you by virtue of your nature alone, they must be deaf, dumb and blind."

Though Nalia was trying to comfort him, her comment on his nature only served to make it worse. Nalia did not know what his nature was. What showed was what Gorion had nurtured, but Kysis' nature… was dark and full of his father's taint, carefully repressed. By virtue of his nature alone, he should have been burnt on the stake long ago.

"And you wish to present me like this?" Kysis glanced down at himself. There was still some blood on his tunic which he had been unable, despite all the scrubbing, to get out. Sweat clung to him like a second skin, a side-effect of the trek from Athkatla to the Keep. His hair was messy, slightly oily and damp from being under his helm that whole way. He was barely even presentable at the Copper Coronet, much less a gathering of nobles.

Nalia gave him a look over, hand over her mouth as though to hide her smile. A chuckle came through anyway. "Don't worry. I asked you to come so early so the resident tailor would have time to whip something up for you. She is upstairs in the hall behind the library."

That was the room Lord De'Arnise's master of arms had attacked them. The man had been crazed. Kysis had not wanted to kill him, but… sometimes he thought it was better that blood stain his hands rather than that of his companions. He was already tainted, after all. They still had a chance.

"Fine, Nalia, but please do not make a regular occasion of this." Kysis sighed, heading off that way while the others stayed to socialize with Nalia.

0 0 0 0 0

Kysis had complained about the waste of time this entire situation would be to the messenger only for it to fall on deaf ears. The messenger was already prepared for such an argument, coming armed with two of his own. The first was that Nalia said it would be well worth his time, and that she could finally reward him for saving the Keep now that they had started rebuilding. The second was that the new captain of the De'Arnise guard, Cernick, wished to talk over the current defense situation of the Keep with him.

That was what had gotten him preparing for such an early departure and urging the others to hurry as well.

The family tailor finished doing her measurements, showing him a rough sketch of the sort of attire she was making. It looked regal on parchment; she promised he would look like a prince once it was finally made. Kysis was not sure if he wanted that. The way the woman was staring at him with wide, shining eyes made him nervous, all the more so since he had yet to clean up yet, still looking haggard and road worn.

He was glad to finally get out of the room, walking down the back tunnel they had taken when the Keep was under attack and the library door was jammed. The tunnel was quiet, empty, his every step echoing. With all of the hustle and bustle of the servants buzzing about the Keep, it was nice to get away. He emerged in Lord De'Arnise's room. It was plush, well kept but unlived in. It looked like no one would claim it as their own, though he knew all too well that Isaea Roenall would be glad to do just that.

Walking swiftly across the room, Kysis slipped out the main door. He stood there for a moment, getting his bearings. It would be a while before the clothing was ready, and he couldn't take a bath until he had something clean to change in to (though the seamstress had said jokingly that no one would mind if he just walked around in the nude for a while). There was time to contemplate or read or just wander around.

Turning, Kysis headed straight for the stairwell, going up it two steps at a time. His legs were strong and able, not at all tired from the long hike. He was getting tired less and less these days. There was no time to think of the implications as he immerged on the roof. The sunlight was soft and warm, sun still climbing in the sky. The roof was wide and open, a cool breeze feathering over him. It was immediately relaxing. Kysis took a deep breath with a faint smile, coming up the last stair.

There were voices not too far away.

Kysis squinted into the brightness, spotting two forms by the eastern walls. One was pointing at various places, talking. It was a voice Kysis recognized. Cernick. The other was a guard he had not met before, taking notes on what Cernick was saying. It sounded like they were discussing how they were going to rebuild that outer wall and what added defenses would be needed. Kysis would not interrupt them.

Instead, Kysis walked south on the roof, to the edge overlooking the main courtyard. The breeze was stronger there, fresher. Kysis leaned on the stone half-wall, closing his eyes. The sun felt good on his face. With the storms of late and his captivity before that, he had forgotten what the sun felt like, and now it was glorious, comforting, on his pale skin. He felt like he could just stand there forever.

"Kysis?"

He jumped, tensing as he turned. Cernick stood there, wind ruffling his dark blond hair, a smile showing on his lips. Kysis tried to smile back, its coming out weak, forced. He felt strange without his mesh of acquired armor on, almost like he was walking around in the nude. His tunic was ratty at best, the beige color not his own choice, much the same as his brown pants, tucked into worn out boots, were nothing like the attire or colors he wore in Baldur's Gate, in Candlekeep even.

It was Cernick that made him nervous. Kysis caught the guard's eyes quickly traveling up him. Cernick was taller that Kysis, apparent now as the captain of the guards came to stand beside him. Now that the assault on the Keep was over and he had been promoted, Cernick donned polished full plate armor with the De'Arnise crest etched into the breastplate. He was a broader than Kysis, only partly because of the metal pauldrons on his shoulders. Kysis had never been large, nor was he built like an ox. He was streamlined and chiseled, which left him more mobile.

"You came back." Cernick sounded surprised, but relieved. He leaned against the railing, looking out over the courtyard. He almost seemed wistful.

"Yes. Nalia's messenger said you wanted to discuss the Keep's fortifications with me." Kysis was not lying, but that was not entirely the reason he came. "I hear the rebuilding process is going well."

"It is." Cernick wrung his hands together, the only sign of his own nervousness. Otherwise he seemed entirely comfortable. Kysis wished he could say the same. "Would you like to see our progress?"

Giving a short nod, Kysis let himself be led. They headed back into the Keep, circling around to where the entrance to the 'cellar' was. The wall in the bedroom had been left open as the room was no longer occupied, Nalia's aunt moving into the family estate in Athkatla. They passed the chamber with the rows of golems, through another previously hidden door to the spiral staircase heading down.

It felt like the stairs went on forever. The winding tunnel was dark, the air still, stale. Kysis put a hand against the wall, stepping slowly lest he slip and fall. He could hear Cernick undoing a bolt ahead, and then a door opened. There was light inside, a few flickering torches. Workers turned to nod at them as they passed through the first room of the old dungeons.

The walls were being shored up, better, stronger doors connecting each room. In the third room there were few noticeable differences, though it seemed to be acting as a storage room for everything else. There were stacks of bricks and stone and tubs caked with mortar. Cernick did not stop walking there, turning right into the old prison area.

Soon they were in the cell which started it all. The Umber Hulks had burrowed through the dirt and rock to burst through the back of that last dungeon cell, letting all of the trolls and Yuan-Ti through. The gaping hole, the tunnel, it was all covered over, filled in with brick, leaving it with a sound, thick wall. The cell seemed smaller, as well, as though most of it had been bricked up to thicken the wall further.

"It will take much more than an Umber Hulk to get through this wall." Cernick patted the wall softly, smiling at the handiwork as if it was his own. It might have been. Kysis wasn't sure. "We have done the same to all the other cells, since Nalia plans on locking this whole area up, never to be used again."

That was a solid idea, though Nalia's father had also tried hiding the 'cellars' away only to be surprised by the unknown threat beneath them. If Nalia was set on this path, Kysis hoped she did a better job of dismantling and sealing the dungeons then her father had.

The cell door closed with a click.

Kysis frowned, glancing from the barred door to Cernick and back again. For a moment, he felt a surge of panic threatening to take him over, heart pounding, a lump forming in his throat. It was another underground cell, like the ones their captor kept and—

A rough, calloused hand touched Kysis' cheek, cradling it. Kysis hadn't seen Cernick move in the darkness; the guard was now standing very close, close enough to hear his slightly ragged breaths, to feel his body heat. The cell was cold, but Cernick was radiating warmth. Kysis leaned into the hand, closing his eyes. He could barely see anyway.

Chapped lips brushed his, and Kysis' heart leaped. He leaned up, inviting the kiss Cernick had just offered. Their lips crashed together, Kysis giving in as a tongue massaged his mouth open, exploring. Soon his feet were moving, back thudding up against the wall. Cernick pressed up against him, plate armor hard and unyielding, poking uncomfortably.

Kysis turned his head, breaking the kiss to suck in air in gasps. Cernick nuzzled his face into the crook of Kysis' neck. He could feel the smile against his skin, the grate of stubble as well. Cernick's hand slid down the other side of Kysis' neck, gently caressing the exposed pale skin there.

"We can't stay here long." Cernick whispered against Kysis' neck, voice barely a breath. "They will get suspicious."

He wanted to say 'let them', but he couldn't. This was a delicate situation, and Kysis was glad that Cernick seemed to understand it as such. Most of the realms did not accept this kind of preference, this kind of relationship, least of all the Order. Kysis was a paladin. Other paladins were probably the harshest about this subject, followed directly by their treatment of Bhaalspawn. No one could know. "Kiss me one more time, before we go back."

Cernick lifted his head sharply, a long moment of nothingness following. Kysis counted the seconds with his heartbeats. It felt like forever before Cernick's lips found his again, this kiss slower, tenderer, less desperate. Kysis didn't want this to end.

0 0 0 0 0

Kysis should have run away when he had the chance. He didn't though. Instead he finished a peaceful, lonely bath, locked in the room alone before dressing himself in the last minute finery which had been created. The tunic was dark blue, fitted to his strong, lean frame, showing off his muscles but not announcing their exact forms. The pants were black, just as formal as the black boots he tucked them in to. He felt strange, like it was another person standing before the long mirror as he was now.

His platinum blond hair was neatly arranged, almost entirely dry now. His clothing was that of a noble, the long sleeves and high collar serving to hide most of his scars. The exposed skin was creamy and pale. He had always walked easily, gracefully. The seamstress seemed more than pleased with her work, giggling triumphantly.

"If they don't mistaken you for a prince, they are truly mad."

"Great." Kysis mumbled under his breath, frowning. He straightened the collar, flicking an errant strand of hair out of his eye. That done, he squared his shoulders, staring at himself for a long moment. His eyes were not as much of a rich, dark blue anymore, looking dustier, almost a slate grey. Kysis' frown grew.

He could always hope that the hue of his tunic took to his eyes, that no one noticed the difference. Kysis wondered how long they had been like that, how long they had changed. There was no time to worry about it.

"Wow!" Nalia paused in the doorway, letting herself take in the sight with unhidden awe. "Are you the same person?"

Kysis sighed. "Yes. One and the same." These clothes did not feel right. He felt unprotected. He wanted his armor back, his sword hanging at his side, but that was not happening. Not tonight. Kysis stared at the ground, focusing on the smooth rock, the various rugs strewn across it. He should not have even come. This was a waste of time, dressing up and eating with nobles not helping them get to their goal of 20,000 gold any faster. And Cernick… having anything with him was just going to complicate matters. Kysis was almost certain Cernick would not think of him the same if he knew his sire.

"Why the glum face? Chin up, Kysis." Nalia stayed in the doorway, like there was some unseen barrier. "Come. Everyone is waiting for you."

The way down to the main hall felt too short, passing in the blink of an eye. Nalia entered first, introducing him as Kysis of Candlekeep. He watched closely, feeling the air, and could not sense any apprehension coming from those gathered. It was obvious they had not been paying attention to what happened up north, who stopped the war between Amn and Baldur's Gate, any of it. That was good. Kysis did not want anyone calling him out for his heritage.

He could feel Cernick's eyes on him as he crossed the room to the main table, where his companions were already seated. They were all in nice clothing, though none of it looked quite so lavish as what he donned. Kysis felt out of place. He sat, somewhat uncomfortably, hoping for the event to go faster.

There was a toast to him, which he wished had been aimed at his companions as well. They ate. It was truly a feast to behold, with many local items Kysis had never seen before, much less tasted. After the slop of the Copper Coronet, this respite was a welcome relief. For the most part, the nobles seemed disinterested in their guest of honor, which was how Kysis would have preferred it to stay. Nalia seemed to have other plans.

The lady of the De'Arnise Keep stood, tapping a spoon against her glass to gather everyone's attention. Kysis stared down at the empty spot which used to house his plate. The servants were fast, having spirited it away the first moment he turned his head. Nalia was talking, saying things about heroism and selflessness and things which normally applied to paladins, but not to this one. Because of their situation, Kysis was forced to do acts of goodness for monetary compensation. That wasn't his way.

This whole gathering was a lie.

"In sincere gratitude, we present you, Kysis of Candlekeep, with the Flail of Ages, an heirloom of our family." Nalia waved her hand, and Cernick approached from the side of the room, in his hands the assembled flail in question. All three heads had enchanted leather sleeves on them, to keep the wielder safe while transporting it. Nalia took the weapon, hands sinking perilously under the weight before she got control over it. She made an awkward smile to cover the slip, offering it.

Standing, Kysis took the flail with ease, its settling comfortably into his hands. The weapon was too large, too unwieldy, to use in normal, everyday combat, but for special situations it could come to good use. The enchantments on the ancient weapon were still very strong. Kysis nodded in thanks, though he did not know what to do with the flail, what would come next.

It seemed that everyone else did know. Nobles got up to leave the Keep, planning a late return to their estates in Athkatla. Others moved to the guest rooms they had been afforded. Kysis stayed there, waiting for everyone to go before he set the flail down on the table before him.

The whole affair had been taxing. He wanted rest, but they could not have it yet. They still had the march back to Athkatla, to their rooms in the Copper Coronet.

"I made a bundle of some useful items as well, and put some gold in there. I am sorry it is so meager, but these are hard times, and we need to rebuild." Nalia still wore that awkward, unsure smile. It wasn't very becoming.

"That is fine. Thank you for extending your hospitality to us." Jaheira was the one to speak, taking control of the situation easily. She had probably seen the discomfort Kysis was feeling, and for that he was thankful, though he wondered how much of it he was projecting. He wondered how much they knew.

"Know that any time you need shelter, you are welcome here." Nalia clasped Jaheira's hand, merely looking quickly over the others. She was trying her hardest to be warm and inviting, but the amount of effort such an act needed from her made it seem faked, forced. Unlike most nobles, she tried; that was the only thing that set her apart.

Kysis gave a quiet thank you, taking the flail and leaving as quickly as was respectful. He wanted out of these clothes, into his own and more importantly, back into his armor. He heard Nalia call after him to keep the clothing. Kysis was not sure when he would use it again, but he would, if that was her wish. She had it made specifically for him, after all. Arguing would be pointless.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he peeled off his tunic, working at his belt, quickly slipping out of that attire. He neatly folded it all, placing it in his pack. His old clothing had been laundered, though it didn't help how the coarse cloth chaffed. It was all he had to put under his armor, so it would have to do. The armor went on next. His armor had been oiled and mended, almost smelling new from the tanner, though it was far from it.

A knock sounded on the door. Kysis looked up from tying his boots, bent awkwardly in half as he was. Rather than stopping, potentially tripping on the leather laces, he called out. "Come in." He went immediately back to tugging his boots snug, listening as he heard the door open and shut again. The sound of armor and heavy steps made him think first of Anomen; that weight was too well carried to be Minsc. A quick glance proved otherwise.

"You will come back… right?" Cernick shuffled from foot to foot, staring at the ground, though he did sneak a glance up now and then, Kysis noticed. He felt a faint blush dust his own cheeks pink when he realized just where Cernick was looking. Quickly Kysis finished lacing his second boot, standing up straight.

"If my travels take me this way, yes." Kysis wished he could be more certain than that. If anything else happened at the Keep, he would not hesitate in hurrying back. It was his duty to help those in need. The other facets of such a return were the ones in question. Like Cernick.

"I wish you could stay."

"If Imoen was not in danger, I would." Kysis strapped his sword at his waist, tugging at the baldric to be sure it was firmly sat. Finally he slipped the flail into his pack, doing the top laces. He was ready to go, but not moving to leave yet.

"Imoen?"

The way Cernick said the name, it was like he was afraid. It came out gingerly. Kysis had to smile. That worry was unwarranted. "Imoen and I grew up together in Candlekeep. She is like a sister to me. I can't… I can't just abandon her."

The stone mask of Cernick's face melted, softening instantly. His hazel eyes were full of warmth, understanding. Kysis wished he really did understand.

Picking up the pack, Kysis slung it over his shoulder, the strap hitting harder than he expected it to. Kysis flinched. It was heavy, but not enough that it would slow their travels down. Tightening down the strap, Kysis walked to the door, hand resting on the knob. He could not open the door unless Cernick moved.

"Farewell and good luck." Cernick dipped his head, planting a small kiss on Kysis' lips. It took all his willpower not to move away from the door, not to pull Cernick with him. Kysis looked down, taking in a deep breath. Cernick moved out of the way and Kysis opened the door, hurrying out.

0 0 0 0 0

Word of the group's deeds had traveled fast. Kysis entered the Copper Coronet with the others, sun long since hidden beyond the horizon, only for Bernard to approach. The portly inn keep gave them a big but tired smile, holding out a parcel. Kysis frowned, taking it slowly. There were enough lights still in the main room to read it, as there were still customers there.

With shaking fingers, Kysis popped open the seal. He did not recognize it, though he was immediately relieved to see it wasn't the seal of the Cowled Wizards. Who could it be, though? Yoshimo crowded to one side of him, Jaheira to the other. Anomen, Aerie and Minsc all sat down at their usual table, waiting patiently.

Kysis let his eyes scan the first few lines. It was addressed specifically to him. The Windspear Hills. It was a name he knew, from the captive dryads beneath the Promenade. They had told Kysis to give their acorns to their queen so they could escape; Kysis had almost forgotten about it.

From what the letter said, there was trouble in the Windspear Hills, the fault of orcs, and Lord Jierdan Firkraag was willing to pay a great sum to see them removed. 10,000 gold. The number stood out, as though it had been gone over twice.

"This man, I have heard whispers of him. Dark whispers. They say this land may not rightfully be his own." Yoshimo leaned in, his own voice a hushed whisper.

"The balance must be restored, Kysis. These orcs need to be eliminated." Jaheira spoke from his other side, eyes trained to the letter. The letter stated that this Lord Firkraag would be in the Copper Coronet again tomorrow, by their usual table to speak with them in person, and to give them directions to the Windspear Hills.

When they had a chance to speak to Lord Firkraag in person, Kysis would make his decision, and would not speak of it any more until then.


	8. Of Nightmares

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Baldur's Gate in any way shape or form. This fic was written by me.

**Warnings:** dark themes, violence, gore, morality issues, etc.

**Author's Note:** Any reviews would be cherished dearly. Seriously. I'd love you forever. I couldn't remember the name of Garren's daughter, and when I looked it up, there were some conflicting reports. If it isn't Iltha, please tell me.

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part VIII: Of Nightmares**

The Windspear Hills were clear on the other side of Amn from Athkatla, a full twenty-four hour march if they knew the land, longer since they did not. Something had been off about Lord Firkraag, but the others were unwilling to listen, urging him on to deal with the orc problem. Kysis had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he had swallowed a rock and left it to fester. The feeling did not go away, either. It grew.

They stopped briefly at the De'Arnise Keep, to rest there feet for a short while. While they were there, Nalia made the cooks prepare them a lunch, which they ate quickly before setting off again. For a while they were forced into thick forests. The woods were well tended, but quiet, as though the animals were watching silently, fearfully. Kysis frowned and kept plodding on, trying not to consider the implications.

The terrain continued to get rockier as they went, trees here and there in thick patches, but nothing like the forests they had already crossed. Soon the air was balmy, salty even, the sea somewhere beyond the various cliffs and hills obscuring their sight.

Lord Firkraag had been very specific about where they enter his lands, about where the issue was. The pass they were to travel through was small, tight, obscured their view more often than not. Scouting ahead was of little use, since their every step echoed. Minsc could not keep quiet, though he tried; the oaf of a man tripped many a time on the loose rocks in their path.

Kysis continued around one last bend, and the pass opened sharply.

There they were, a whole pack of monsters, creatures of ill birth. Kysis reached for his sword, hand hovering their rather than drawing the blade. The creeping discomfort inside of him grew, screwing his stomach into a tight knot. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and it felt as though it was right before him. There were orcs, ogres, a wyvern even, with weapons and talons raised, ready to attack, and for a moment Kysis was sure he felt the shimmer of magic around them.

Slowly, Kysis raised his hand, silently commanding for his comrades to keep back. Kysis walked forward alone, stopping a few paces away from the creatures. They tensed. The ogre in the front of the group took a step forward as well, voice billowing out, echoing on the canyon walls just behind Kysis. "You, foul creatures, shall fall by our blades this day!"

That was not the voice of an ogre. That was not the battle cry of an ogre.

"Wait! I would have words with you! Please, I implore, lower your weapons." Kysis raised his hands to be sure they could see they were nowhere near his sword. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take. This clearing reeked of magic, of illusions, just like the circus, just like many a mage's trap he had encountered before.

"We shall not stand by and let your evil terrorize the countryside any longer!" The lead ogre lifted its Morningstar high into the air, sun glinting off it.

They launched in to battle, given no choice in the matter by the band of magic mired creatures. They fell one by one, Sarevok's sword cleaving down the wyvern by Minsc's hand, Yoshimo's katana appearing from the shadows to slam into an orc. Jaheira's calm, rhythmical voice called upon Silvanus to aid them, a small rush of strength coming to his limbs when her short chant was over.

With a hard thrust, Kysis drove his sword into the middle of the lead ogre, hands immediately feeling numb from the buzz of magic. That was when the illusion fell.

Kysis' eyes widened. His face was not a hand's breadth from that of a human, a man he recognized. Ajantis. They had met north of the Friendly Arms Inn, and immediately, they had become friends. They were both paladins, and Ajantis had served as a mentor, guidance in the darkness and chaos Kysis had found himself embroiled in. Now, Ajantis was impaled on Kysis' sword, life quickly fading from his once bright eyes.

"By Helm… Kysis, I…" Ajantis looked down, eyes wide, pain not yet registering on his slack face. The sword was buried up to the hilt in Ajantis' armored abdomen. He coughed, blood splattering on Kysis' face. The younger paladin did not blink, did not move. The droplets of blood on his face felt impossibly hot, like they were burning, though he knew they couldn't be.

Slowly, Kysis lowered Ajantis to the ground, carefully pulling his sword clear, laying it aside. Kysis pressed one ungloved hand to the bloody wound, closing his eyes. A prayer started on his lips. A hand grasped his wrist, holding it hard. Kysis looked up. It was Ajantis. He shook his head, as if telling him no. "You… must save it for… for the…" Ajantis' words ended with a gurgle, another wet cough. This time Kysis flinched.

"For the what, Ajantis?" Kysis cradled his mentor's head in his hands, staring into those eyes as they became lifeless. He could feel the death crawling in to his mentor, the life, the soul, moving on. It was a frightening feeling. All Kysis could hear was the blood pumping through his body, pounding through his head, super hot. He was shaking.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, shaking him. Kysis removed his eyes from Ajantis' lifeless face, spotting the man on the road ahead. The man was in armor. He looked old beyond what he should, grey streaking his hair, deep creases on his face. The man looked horrified. "What has come to pass here?"

"We were tricked into killing these knights!" It was Anomen's voice which cut the silence. Kysis opened his mouth, but could not force his tongue, now seemingly made of lead, to move. "What foul magic was this?!"

"Wait, you are a squire of the Order, are you not?" The man stayed back. He was smart. Kysis took in a deep, shaky breath. The angry pull of his blood lessened, if only slightly. "And you there, a paladin! Quickly, you all must come with me so we can properly sort this tragedy out!"

Kysis watched the man a moment longer before looking down at Ajantis. With a shaking hand, he eased his mentor's eyelids shut. That done, Kysis returned his gaze to the man before them. "And who are you, to know these things?" His voice sounded hollow, lifeless like Ajantis was. He felt a squeeze on his shoulder. Kysis glanced over, seeing Jaheira's tanned hand there. She had known Ajantis, too.

"My name is Garren Windspear, and I assure you, I am not in league with the monster behind this all."

That name! Yoshimo had been right about Lord Firkraag getting the lands in dubious ways if this was in deed Garren Windspear. That meant the Windspear line still lived, and no one else had right to these lands or anything on them.

Reluctantly, Kysis stood. He was hesitant to leave the body there, unattended. He wanted to bury Ajantis. He wanted to do right by his mentor. Most of all, he wanted him alive again. That wasn't possible, though, so he would do what he actually could. "We will come with you…" There was nothing else they could do at this point.

0 0 0 0 0

The house was not small by any measure, the long manor one might envision a land owner of residing in. That was exactly the place Garren Windspear led them, welcoming them inside despite what he had just witnessed. Or perhaps, it was what he witnessed which compelled his compassion. Kysis was still in too much of a haze. His steps felt automated, compelled, feet stepping after one another without any conscious thought behind it. There was still blood on his hands, up his arms, on his face from Ajantis. His eyes were wide and grey, close to empty but too sad to be considered complete voids.

The group must have been a horrific sight coming through the doorway. Thankfully, Garren quickly came in after them, calling out that he was home and had brought guests. There seemed to be no servants about, as would be expected, but Kysis felt more comfortable because of that. A few moments later, Garren came back with a damp cloth, offering it to Kysis.

Kysis took the cloth, slowly removing the blood from his face before working on his hands. Garren was pacing, thinking, debating mentally. Soon enough, that all spilled out verbally. "The Order will hear about the slaying of their group soon, and orders of execution for all of you will be issued not long after."

"There must be something. I am a squire of the Order, Lord Windspear. These others are of just as noble a heart as me, otherwise I would not sully myself with their company." Anomen had a way of making a sentence sound pretty even when he had his foot in his mouth, but the zealous statement seemed to work, and for that Kysis was thankful. He was still scrubbing at the blood. It wouldn't come off.

"I will talk to the Order to see what can be done. Until that, you mustn't leave. In this household, you are under my protection and none of the Order will dare attack you." Garren stopped pacing, letting out a long sigh. A young woman came out of one of the side halls, pausing there to stare at the group. She bore a slight resemblance to Garren; a daughter, perhaps. She looked far too worried and worn for her age.

"Father, what is going on?"

"Iltha, these are my guests. They will be staying here for a while." Garren gave a patient, strained smile. It was obvious he did not want to give the full story. Kysis could not blame him. "Please, make them feel at home." Garren gave his daughter a soft pat on the shoulder, turning to go.

It was a long way to the Order's headquarters in Athkatla, and a dangerous path. Kysis did not think Garren should go alone, but he left before any protest could be mounted. This was going to be a very, very long wait before their peace of mind and honor could be restored.

0 0 0 0 0

With a grunt, Kysis broke the shaft of the arrow off, grating his teeth together hard. He stayed on one knee, taking a few ragged breaths before he was able to open his eyes again. That was not the worst of it. With his left hand he reached for the arrow again, this time feeling for the barb, taking it in his rough, bloodied palm. In a whisper Kysis counted to three.

On three, he yanked.

A little, strangled cry left his lips as the arrow left his right shoulder, a hot rush of blood sliding down his arm. Tossing down the destroyed arrow, Kysis pressed his hand to the wound. It was jagged, a nasty chunk missing from where the arrow head game through the other side. It was quickly becoming worse, the poison in the arrow eating at his skin, starting to tug through his veins.

Kysis lifted his gaze from his own wound, surveying the once peaceful room. There were some broken items here and there as well as the bodies of their assailants. Most of them, at least. The mage had managed to escape on a spell, Garren's beloved daughter in tow. Jaheira and Anomen were both preoccupied healing wounds, both their own and those of their other companions.

Rather than calling to them, Kysis pressed his own hand against the wound harder, listening to the tug of the blood, feeling it, drawing on it. In a matter of moments he could feel the searing presence of the poison dull to nothingness, neutralized before it could do any more harm. Taking a few moments to recover, Kysis mumbled a quick prayer, to whom he still did not know, feeling the cooling sensation wafting from his hand almost instantly.

Whoever was listening was obviously willing to help. Kysis just wished he knew who, to lay his mind to rest. The damaged flesh stitched itself up, healing rapidly. Soon it was a thick scab which would mend well naturally. The flow of blood stopped entirely, as did the painful throb in his head, which was a relief. He still could not stand yet, but that would come with time.

The door banged open, Kysis snapping his head to look too quickly. His temples pulsed in warning. It was Garren. Kysis' heart sunk.

"What happened here?! I left this house in your protection, Kysis! I left Iltha in your protection!" Garren took a few steps into the house, looking around. His eyes seemed to stop at the arrow, still dripping of blood and poison.

"There was a mage. He was gone with Iltha before we even knew what was happening." Jaheira's voice was cold, cutting, but it was the slap across the face Garren needed.

The former lord of the Windspear hills ran a hand over his face, wariness showing through the anger in his eyes. "Firkraag did this. Again. He…" Garren sighed. "He's trying to turn me against you. I shouldn't let him hold so much sway over me but…"

"I'll find your daughter." Kysis' voice was hoarse, scratchy at the back of his throat. With the help of his sword for balance and leverage, he managed to stand. "Firkraag is an evil which must be stopped."

"Kysis! You've seen how powerful this man is! It would be sui—"

"I can't let this stand, Jaheira." Kysis glanced at her briefly, seeing the stern disapproval, the stubbornness. Jaheira hadn't really changed all that much since their encounter with Irenicus, their capture and subsequent suffering. She was still a force for balance, not goodness, and that bothered him more now than ever. "If you will not go with me, that is your decision. I will go alone, if I must."

"Not alone. I must come with you." Anomen holstered his mace, face and voice grave, more so than Kysis had seen before. Kysis had been expecting some over-zealous, boisterous comment. It seemed as though Anomen had changed, at least a little, in their short time together. "It is my duty to uphold right and honor in the name of Helm and I shall not turn my back upon this opportunity to combat this most depraved of evils." His flourish for dramatics was intact, however.

"I'm coming too." Aerie clutched her quarterstaff to her. She was still shaking from the battle. Though she had not been of much use during combat, she generally was afterwards, so he could not deny her offer. Her healing aid and magic might come to use, especially since there was a mage involved.

"Wherever Aerie goes, Minsc goes. She is my new witch and I shall protect her from evil." Minsc raised his sword, Sarevok's sword, and shook it. It was almost comical, especially when Boo wiggled out of hiding to perch on Minsc's armored shoulder, letting out a loud squeak. Sometimes he wondered if the hamster actually did understand everything going on better than Minsc.

New witch, though… Kysis was uncertain. Minsc's witch, whom he had been protecting when they met south of Baldur's Gate, died in the maze beneath the Promenade. It seemed too soon for Minsc to find another mage to protect, but if it gave him a sense of purpose, a further drive in battle, Kysis would try not to complain. Try was the key word. Minsc tended to do rash things when his witch had been involved before. It might not be a good thing.

Kysis turned his gaze to Yoshimo, who merely nodded at him. Yoshimo was not the type for heroic words. He was a bounty hunter, a thief, and allied with the winning side and the side with the most spoils. Currently, that was Kysis. That left the future uncertain. If they encountered any traps or locks, Yoshimo would be their sole salvation, so Kysis had little choice in the matter.

Jaheira was the only one holding out. She crossed her arms. Kysis let his hand fall from his wound, properly sheathing his sword now. The silence seemed to stretch on forever.

"The Order agreed that they would dismiss their charges against you if you found some way to redeem your honor. Returning my daughter to me would be more than enough." Garren picked up a cracked mug from the floor, setting it on the counter with the rest. He fiddled with the mug for a moment longer before he moved on to the next broken thing, a chair. "If not, you will all face trial before the Order, and because of the number of knights killed…"

There was no chance that they would ever walk free again if they were put up to trial before the Order. The Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart knew what Kysis was, and that would be a strike against him. They might lock the others in some obscure dungeon or prison, but there was no doubt that they would kill Kysis.

He wasn't ready to die yet.

"Please, Jaheira. I need your guidance now more than ever, but I absolutely will not abandon Lord Windspear or his daughter. Even if my honor and life did not fall in the balance, I would help them."

"I know." Jaheira shook her head with a sigh. "I will accompany you, but if you continue on such a reckless path, I will have to report you to the Harpers."

It stung, but Kysis knew it was the best he could get. He would have to run with it before the offer could be rescinded.

0 0 0 0 0

The Windspear Hills were as infested with orcs as Firkraag had claimed, though now it seemed more purposeful than anything. The packs of them were stations around blind bends, bows raised and ready, arrows far better than the usual fair associated with their type. Kysis did not like having to dodge arrows in battle, especially in the early morning, when the sun was not quite up over the cliffs yet.

It was difficult, but they managed to get out of those scuffles with just a few minor injuries, nothing as bad as the ambush in the cabin. Kysis rolled his shoulder; it was stiff from both the damage and the healing. He was thankful it was not his sword arm so hindered.

On the way to the northeast corner of Garren's lands, the place Firkraag set up his base, they passed a massive clear pool surrounded by rose hued rocks, where they found the dryad queen. Kysis handed over the acorns, glad to see the captive dryads finally freed from the mage's obscene clutches. If only they could have saved everyone in there.

The way north was easier, more open, than their trek east had been. They encountered another group of orcs but were able to use the advantage of the near tree cover to force the orcs to lower their bows and draw swords. It was quick and easy and far less painful than the previous encounters.

Just beyond that thicket of trees stood the ruins.

Kysis shielded his eyes, looking up at the massive columns and walls. There were oversized sculptures of dragon heads on each side of the doorway, a bad sign if ever there was one. Kysis hoped these ruins were as ancient as their disrepair suggested and that any dragon which had once inhabited it was long since gone. That would be too easy, though.

The entrance tunnel was occupied only by a few hobgoblins who were ill prepared for their appearance, most of them scuttling off yelling something about how their master had said it would take longer. Firkraag had known they would come. It sounded like a very artful trap they were walking into.

They would just have to be more careful in that case.

"Yoshimo, I need you to scout ahead. Disable any traps, take count of enemy forces and figure out the lay of this place." Kysis nodded towards the end of the hallway, where it seemed to open into a vast cavern. That was the perfect staging place for an ambush; what worried him worse was that it was also a big enough area for a dragon to maneuver in. The last thing Kysis wanted was to be ambushed by a creature of draconic kind.

With a nod and a smile, Yoshimo darted into the shadows, vanishing from Kysis' detection. For now, they would have to wait. Kysis prayed Yoshimo would come with good rather than dire news.

0 0 0 0 0

The feeling of dread in his stomach had only grown the further they went into the ruins. Groups of orcs were not a problem, nor were the hobgoblins or the group of kamikaze kobolds. Even the fiendish Rakshasa fell before them, though their clothing was more singed for it. Firkraag had set up quite the gauntlet of traps and ambushes.

It was in a narrow hallway further into the ruins where the feeling hit him. His skin started to crawl, a frigid chill running up his spine. The fine hairs at the back of his neck stood on end, that pit in his stomach becoming heavier, churning. Kysis knew that feeling. His steps slowed, came to a stop, and he hovered behind the door, unwilling to open it just yet.

Having faced off with a vampire before, he knew he held resistances to their most devastating of attacks, but his companions did not share such hardness to them. He could not risk them. It was too dangerous. He would not turn back, though, not when he had come so far.

"Wait here. I… I will be right back." Kysis pushed the heavy stone door open, sliding out and shutting it behind him before the others could follow or question him. The feeling got stronger. They were close. It was not just one vampire, the feeling too strong for a sole, damned creature. This Firkraag certainly knew how to choose his company, and his protection.

However, if Firkraag needed to be this heavily guarded, it meant he could not defend himself. Kysis nodded at that small reassurance, taking a right towards the darker of the two doors, the one that was open. It was a palpable force, beating against him, when he entered the door into the dark crypt.

It was absolutely silent in there, Kysis painfully aware of the loud beat of his heart, of the warmth he must have been radiating in the frightful cold. Nothing but the already dead could survive in such a place. A shiver tickled at his neck. Kysis took another step forward, hand not moving from the hilt of his sword.

A woman in the clothing of a noble stepped from the shadows, a hand pressed to her heart. Her black hair was spun up intricately up atop her head, a fine hat sitting atop it. Nothing seemed off, until he noticed the details, like how the lace was starting to fade and crumble. Her dress, though lavish at first glance, was much the same way. Kysis took a deep, shaky breath, staring at her face. It was milky white, smooth, perfect, her lips unnaturally red. She smiled.

"Oh, you must save us! We are the maidens the villain Firkraag has kidnapped! One after another, he plucks away the young women of this area to gain control! Please, help us!"

"Yes! Help us!" That voice came from the shadows to Kysis' right, and when he turned his head to glance, he could only see a slight gleam of light off her eyes. Other voices echoed the same call, all of them out of view. They were all women with voices like honey, just as sickly sweet, too sweet.

"Come closer. I can show you where he keeps the keys to his maze." The main woman gestured with a lithe hand. The nails on those fingers were long, filed to points. Kysis couldn't miss it, as the faint torchlight from the other room glinted off them.

Their eyes locked, hers impossibly dark, almost like wide black pools. Her smile coiled up venomously, hands falling to her sides. Suddenly, she looked away. A loud hiss seethed through her pointed teeth.

"You have god's blood! I must have it!"

With a shriek, she launched forward, momentum only slightly encumbered by her garb. Kysis could hear rustling in the crypt all around him, forms moving, getting up, jumping. The prayer flew to his lips before he realized it, words fast and feverish. There was only a matter of moments. There were too many of the creatures. They would overwhelm him.

It started as a faint light, growing rapidly, spreading around him. Kysis could barely see through it, the shadows seeming even blacker in comparison to the bright orb around it. The light spread further, the leader of the vampires barreling into it, screaming. She staggered back, shielding her face, her eyes.

With a flash, Kysis lunged, drawing his sword in one swoop. It slid through her soft, undead middle, the two halves falling to the ground and dissolving into mist, quickly sliding into near coffin. The others kept coming, fear overtaking the vampires, Kysis dispatching them one at a time, careful not to break his prayer. It was a strain on his concentration, but somehow he managed it.

The crypt was silent, but in a different way now. The vampires had all retreated to their coffins, to rest, to heal, reform. If he had stakes, he would finish this now. There was no time to hunt some down or to fashion some, which they would have to take to a temple to have blessed. By the time he returned, they would be risen again and prepared. Kysis could not risk that.

Sheathing his sword, he ran through the room, jumping over rubble as he went. The winding hallway was dark for the most part, a torch here and there, though he doubted the vampires needed it. The next room seemed empty enough, though he did not relax his prayer, continuing it as he pulled a key from the rubble at the middle of the room, rushing back out.

Kysis ran back to the group, not willing to waste any time. They needed to find Garren's child and remove her from this hellhole before those vampires could reemerge or anything else could get to her.

0 0 0 0 0

The small room did not allow much room to maneuver. An ambush was waiting, the head of the resident hobgoblins and his pack, and an unexpected surprise. Tazok. The beast had been one of the creatures in alliance with Sarevok, in that last battle underneath Baldur's Gate, and had been slain. Kysis remembered hearing the half bull, half man die as his battle with Sarevok raged on, seen his body lying bloody and crumpled in the aftermath.

He was here though, a nightmare from the past, his billowing laugh echoing in the prison room, horns poised and as ready to gore as his weapons were. Kysis took no chances this time. A quick scan of the enemies informed him of no mages, no shimmer of magic present other than that holding the jail cells shut. Kysis rushed, flinging himself forward, sword rising to block the heavy downward arc of Tazok's. Kysis grunted, arms trembling under the beast's strength.

Spinning, Kysis knocked the sword aside, thrusting. The blow glanced off Tazok's armor, compromising his footing. Kysis rolled across the floor, almost hitting the low table at the room's center. Skidding, he pushed himself back up in time to block a horizontal cut, the blow vibrating through his sword, jarring his hands. Quickly he readjusted his grip on the sword, blocking another swooping, hard attack. Tazok was strong, but not fast.

Kysis kicked, booted foot hitting the minotaur's wrist, blade following, cutting the bands holding his armor on his arm. Reversing his blade, he cut back along it, tip slicing into the beast's heavily muscled forearm. Blood welled up immediately, actual blood. Tazok wailed, swinging his blade in another arc, this one more haphazard, wobbling. Kysis ducked under it, bounding up from his crouch to plow into Tazok.

They went flying backwards, hitting the ground with a resounding boom. Kysis pulled his arms back, both hands awkwardly on the hilt of his long sword, thrusting down, forward. The blade slid up under Tazok's armor, under his rib cage. The next breath Tazok took was wet, crackling. Springing back, Kysis put his foot on the creature's powerful abdomen, yanking his sword out. Tazok's helm had fallen off, head thrown back, breaths ragged.

With a quick slice through the neck, Kysis ended it.

The hobgoblins left—the others had been wearing away at them—cried out when they saw Tazok slain, head separate from the body, eyes bulging half out. The room was too clogged for retreat, the panic of the group giving Kysis and his companions the advantage. The rest of them fell quickly.

There was a key dangling from the chain on Tazok's neck. Kysis removed it, blood slicking his hands a dark red, almost black. He had no time to think about it. Moving quickly, he stepped over Tazok's arm, one of the massive horns on his head, and went straight for the first jail cell.

Iltha was within.

"You came! I knew you would! I could sense your bright spirit all along, fair hero!"

Kysis' smile was wane. She did not know of what she spoke. There was an anger behind Kysis' blade, stirring in his own blood, as he fought Tazok. His hands itched to harm the body further, to remove Tazok's heart so he could never be so resurrected again, but he fought the compulsion, if barely. Kysis cast a longing look at the corpse, letting out a shaky sigh before he turned back to the jail door, the keyhole.

The metal shocked him when he tried to fit the key in. Looking at the hole, the key did not even fit. "Where is the key, Iltha? Where is Firkraag?"

"Don't fight him! Please, don't! You don't understand what he is!" Iltha grabbed the bars, leaning against them in her plea. "His mage servant has the key. You must get it from him without fighting Firkraag. Don't sacrifice your life for me."

Without a word, Kysis turned, flicking the blood of his blade before sheathing it. He tucked Tazok's key in his belt; there was something more behind it, and Kysis would know who brought the beast back from beyond the grave. At the end of the cells was a staircase, a massive one leading down into the darkness.

Firkraag had to be there.

"Kysis…"

He glanced back. Aerie was staring at him, wringing her hands together. There were a few spots of blood on her yellow robes, but not enough to dampen its cheeriness. He could practically smell the fear wafting off her.

"I never thought you were so cruel a person."

"Don't be silly, girl." Jaheira immediately jumped on it, protective as always. "Tazok was no small evil."

"But—but the way he looked at him, it was like—it was like he wanted to tear him apart, and he's already dead!"

Kysis shut his eyes. With the scent of blood thick in the air, he was finding it hard to concentrate. He wanted out of that room, away from the body, so the temptation did not keep calling his name. That was when he realized his hands were coiled into tight fists, shaking. "We can talk about this later. Right now, we need to save Garren's daughter."

"I'm afraid of you."

Rather than giving that a response, Kysis hurried down the dark staircase. He could hear the others following quickly after him, not willing to abandon him to whatever was below, at the very least. Or perhaps they wanted to be sure he did not turn into some kind of monster. Kysis let out a frustrated sigh. No matter what he did, his heritage was still there, looming over him, mocking him and everything he stood for.

There was light down below, at the bottom reaches of the massive staircase. Kysis glanced at the columns, eyeing the deep shadows to be sure nothing lurked in them. This structure was massive, whatever it was, nestled so far under the main ruins.

Torches hung on either side of the stairway at the bottom, no other light in the massive chamber. Kysis walked to the first sconce, set low enough for a human to grab. It looked purposeful. Kysis pulled the torch out, carrying it high.

The darkness down there was thick, near impenetrable. He could hear someone behind him grabbing the other torch. Kysis glanced. It was Anomen, following the group with that other spot of light. Kysis let his gaze fall to the ground, the intricate pattern of stone there, and then back up, to the darkness high above him, the columns on the far walls almost obscured entirely in shadow. It was too quiet down there.

Kysis saw the mage first, standing off to the side. He was a human with flowing, ornate robes, a trimmed beard, dark flowing hair. The man's eyes looked jet black. Kysis shivered, following the mage's gaze up.

A red dragon loomed over him.

It felt like his heart stopped, if only for a moment, or skipped a beat. Either way, the breath was sucked right out of him. It was huge. The dragon's wings were folded at its sides currently, tail wrapped around it. The way it was on the ground, it looked like a napping cat, just awoken much to its displeasure.

"Ah, I see you have finally arrived." The dragon's voice echoed, smooth and venomous, in the air. Kysis fought against the urge to grab for his sword. "As you may have guessed, I am Lord Firkraag, and have been all along."

"Why this game of cat and mouse? Why do you hound Garren Windspear so?" Kysis lifted the torch a little higher, the flame's light glinting off crimson scales.

"This is not about that petty mortal anymore. He was a means to an end. And you are here now, so it most certainly worked." His voice was a purr, a smug smile, so wicked it made Kysis' skin crawl. It also made his dark blood stir, and that was even more troubling. "Your parentage is oh so interesting to me."

A lump tightened in his throat. Kysis let his gaze drift back over his shoulder, at the others. Of that group, only Aerie did not know. Anomen and Yoshimo knew some about him, but not all. Kysis moved his gaze back to Firkraag, glaring up at him. There was no way he could stop what the dragon was going to say.

"Your foster father, Gorion, had a run in with me once. I am still scarred from that encounter. For the longest time I had planned my vengeance on him, and yet now, with him dead… the chase has bored me. There are more interesting things about you, anyway. I will not kill you just to see Gorion writhe in his grave, like I had first planned." Firkraag readjusted, a great shift of muscle and scales, tail flicking around, dangerously close. "It is your birth father, Bhaal, that truly interests me."

Aerie gasped, crying out loudly. Kysis could hear Minsc (and Boo) trying to comfort her to little avail. The others did not make any noise, keeping as still as possible, as though the dragon could not see them that way.

"It is interesting, to see a paladin of all things with the Dark Lord's taint. I am going to be keeping a close eye on you, Godchild, especially your next clash with Irenicus." Firkraag's laugh was bellowing, dark like the chamber around them. It was amused, too, as though this was all a game to him.

"I did not come for your amusement." Kysis quickly glanced towards the mage, making sure he had not moved, before locking Firkraag with his glare again. "I am here to save Lord Windspear's daughter."

"If you were a creature of evil like your father, I might attempt to turn you against that pitiful man. Sadly, you are not. You will dance for me, Godchild. This was not all for naught. Conster," Firkraag inclined his head towards the mage, obviously addressing him, "go upstairs. If Kysis fails to get the key from you, kill the girl."

In a bright flash of magic, Conster vanished.

There was no time to force a confrontation with Firkraag. He needed to save Garren's child. Now.

Spinning, Kysis dropped the torch, sprinting for the stairs. If only he had the proper magic, he could spirit himself up there after the mage, perhaps intercept him even, dispatching him before any magical defenses could be raised. He could only hope he was fast enough to disrupt at least part of it.


	9. Ebb and Flow

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Baldur's Gate or any of that stuff. Thank Black Isle, Wizards of the Coast, the creators of Forgotten Realms, etc. I just write this weird fanfic.

**Warning:** dark themes, yaoi, violence, etc. The usual.

**Author's Note:** My muses all decided to commit mass suicide. I had to whip out the Lord of the Rings soundtracks in order to revive them. When that only helped a small bit, I ended up using the "Write or Die" writing tool. It's amazing.

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part IX: Ebb and Flow**

The cabin seemed peaceful now, though it was a precarious balance, teetering on the edge of danger once more. Until Firkraag could be killed and his evil purged from the land, there would be no absolute safety there. Worst of all, Garren Windspear and his daughter had to live in constant fear of the vile red dragon, and there was nothing, at this point, which Kysis could do about it. They knew this, all too well, and a dark cloud seemed to hang over the cabin for it.

If only they could have kept it peaceful.

Aerie strode over, head held high for once, nervous fidget quelled if only for a moment. She walked straight to Kysis, stopping before him. "I am leaving the group. I can no longer travel with you, knowing what you are."

All Kysis could do was give a slight nod. It was obvious Aerie had made up her mind and was not about to sway from the decision. There was nothing he could do to stop her. What worried him was the way Minsc was looking at him, conflicted, before the giant of a man let out a long sigh, pulling the sword strapped at his side to offer, hilt out, to Kysis.

"Your brother's sword, my friend." Minsc looked and sounded sad, something not characteristic for the normally cheery ranger. He had sworn to protect Aerie as his witch. Because of that, Minsc's honor would be forfeit if he did not go with Aerie. Kysis understood that. "Boo says it would not be right to wield this blade while not in your service. Take it."

Slowly, hesitantly, Kysis reached out, hand coiling around the wire and leather wrapped hilt of Sarevok's sword. A chill ran up his arm, fingers feeling immediately cold, near freezing. Sucking in a breath, Kysis took the sword, fastening it to his baldric, as he had nowhere else to put it.

"At least allow us to escort you back to Athkatla."

Aerie shook her head adamantly. Her eyes were watery, but no tears flowed forth, Aerie quickly turning and striding out. Minsc reached out with a hand, Kysis grabbing it firmly. With a sharp yank, Minsc pulled him into a strong hug, patting Kysis on the back before letting go. "Shall we meet again."

Kysis forced a smile, moving back from him. In a moment, his long time companion was gone. It was sad to see Minsc go; Kysis' smile faded the moment the door closed behind him.

A hand touched Kysis' shoulder, his recoiling out of habit. He was still haunted at night, in his dreams, by his former captor's scarred hands touching him, the knives, the magic, touching him. It was a reflex. His survival instinct. Kysis frowned when he saw it was Iltha, the young woman worried.

"Why the long face? Your honor is restored, my savior. You are truly the Light Bringer the paladins in tales are." Iltha's words were meant to be comforting, but only cut deeper. Kysis looked away. "My father has promised to talk to the Order and recommend to them that you could do a great service of good under their patronage."

"They would never have me."

"Do not sound so sure. You have done many a brave a noble deed here." Iltha reached out, letting her hand drop before it reached Kysis. She sighed. "At least talk to them. Promise that."

"I will consider it." Kysis lifted his pack from the wood floor, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Where are you going now?"

Kysis allowed his gaze to drift over his remaining companions. They did not give any sign or signal, rather packing their gear in silence. Yoshimo was already packed, watching them silently with crossed arms. Kysis could not read his look. "We are going back to Athkatla. Hopefully we will be able to find more work there."

Garren re-entered the room, holding a bundle. The man put it down on the table near Kysis, unwrapping the cloth over it. It was armor. Kysis recognized that armor. Tazok had been wearing it in the prison. Now the armor was polished, straps repaired. Kysis shot a surprised look at Garren, whom forced a weary smile.

"I sent a courier to the Order. You should have words with them when you return to Athkatla." Garren held up the torso section of the armor, holding it towards Kysis. "I believe this is yours now, paladin."

It was difficult, seeing the armor then, remembering the way he had felt, the itch which had been thrust to the back of his mind for now. For how long, though? Kysis did not want to know. He wanted to save Imoen as quickly as possible, deal with their captor, and hopefully go live under a rock so he could have a peaceful end to his days, rather than the bloody one prophesized for him.

Gently, Kysis took the armor from Garren, running his fingers over the intricate pauldrons, the lacework of straps over the abdomen. It was a fine piece of armor, and because of the way it was constructed, could be synched down to fit his form easily. Tazok was much larger than him, but the armor had been loosened as far as it could go for him.

Taking the armor, Kysis went into a back room, away from the staring eyes of Iltha, and the uncertain gazes of his companions. Quickly he set his pack down, untying his ratting cloak, and then he went on to removing his patchwork armor from before. Soon enough he had on the torso portion of the armor, tightening it down strap by strap. It was a long process, but soon he had all of the armor on, checking himself over. It all fit perfectly, to his surprise. Fastening his cloak again, reshouldering his pack, Kysis rejoined the others.

"Thank you for your hospitality and your aid, Garren." Kysis bowed to Garren, the flourish showing the armor, shining and bright like one expected from a paladin.

"And thank you, for all of your help. I wish there was a more final resolution to this, but your aid has done much. I should not complain." Garren tried to smile. Firkraag's shadow still loomed over the cabin, and there was nothing Kysis could do short of slaying the dragon.

That was not a task he could survive. It would have to wait.

0 0 0 0 0

The De'Arnise Keep was a halfway point between the Windspear Hills and Athkatla, the hike a hard one through rocky terrain and forest. Fatigue was starting to weigh on him. Kysis had turned down Garren Windspear's offer for safe rest in the cabin, setting off immediately. They had not dared set up camp in Firkraag's domain, so they had not gotten a chance to truly rest in over a day.

It was hard to hold his head up high, to set the pace, when he felt such heavy tiredness settling into his bones, pulling at his eyelids. His steps were starting to drag by the time they finally made it to the Keep. Thankfully, they had not run into any bandits along the way.

They were welcomed warmly into the Keep proper, servants swarming around them, offering to take cloaks and packs. All of the bustle must have alerted Nalia, as she was in the main room within moments, always the warm and welcoming hostess. Slowly but surely, Kysis could see her childhood nurtured snobbishness fading away. It was just a start now, but he could sense the difference in the way she greeted them, the way she spoke to them. She was no longer looking down her nose, but staring more equally, which was a very welcome difference.

"I talk entirely too much. Surely you all want to rest!" Nalia pressed a hand to her heart, letting out a nervous laugh. Some habits died hard. It felt fake, slightly over the top, but Kysis had grown used to it as much as he possibly could. After dealing with Anomen for this amount of time, Kysis felt he could put up with just about everyone.

"Please. We have had a trying last few days." Jaheira took the reins, thankfully. Kysis leaned against the nearest wall, shoulder against the hard rock. It was a comfort, though. He closed his eyes for just a few seconds, rubbing the backs of his eyelids with his fingertips. The dull throb in his head was just from fatigue, thankfully. There was nothing to worry about it, though Jaheira was hardly acting that way. "Do you have rooms we could use?"

Kysis glanced up in time to see the look Jaheira was giving him. With that sort of look, he was expecting his nose to fall off, or a troll to jump from the shadows behind him. Yes, there were grey circles under his eyes. From the mirror across the room, Kysis could see that he was looking rather ashen, though it did not seem so out of place with his platinum hair. Jaheira, whom had known him in tanner days, would notice the difference. She always did, and was always commenting about it.

There were days where he wished he could forget it all. Gorion, Sarevok, Irenicus, the Cowled Wizards, Bhaal. Ever since their escape from Irenicus' dungeon under the Promenade and Imoen's enslavement by the Cowled Wizards, Kysis wished they could go back. Forget it all. That wasn't possible, though. If Kysis had not escaped when Sarevok attacked all of that time ago, if he had fallen in Gorion's stead, the Sword Coast would be embroiled in war, flowing with blood, like all of the prophecies promised.

He did what he must.

"Kysis, you may use my father's room. There are a few guest rooms down the hall from it." Nalia seemed to finally look at the group, taking stock of them. "Where are Aerie and Minsc? I hope they are not..."

"No. They are safe. They had... other plans in Athkatla and could not remain." Jaheira stepped in again. Kysis had not even tried to answer, nor had he cared to. He knew Jaheira would take over for him. He was too weary for words now.

"Those accommodations will be fine. Thank you." Anomen offered a bright smile, nodding in gratitude.

A servant came to lead them, though they hardly needed the direction. When routing the trolls, they had grown very familiar with the Keep, explored all of its hidden, dark corners, and probably knew it better than the servants themselves. Kysis knew where all of the secret compartments were, all of the private rooms, all of the hidden doors. The guide was a formality, though, a link to normalcy for Nalia perhaps, so he did not question it. This was her Keep, after all, and because of it, they had to abide by her whims, no matter how wasteful.

The servant guided them to the smaller guest rooms first, allowing Yoshimo, Jaheira and Anomen to have their pick. Once they were settled in, the servant took Kysis to the room which would serve as his, if only for a night. The chambers of the Lord De'Arnise were large, too large for just him, with high ceilings, a massive four poster bed, a wide hearth to build a large, cozy fire. Kysis did not need these things, but he did not object. It would give him space to breathe.

After all of the time they had spent underground lately, Kysis wanted the room. The fact that it came with privacy was a bonus. Giving a hushed thank you and a nod of his own, Kysis closed the door.

The first thing he did was ease off his heavy pack, propping his weapons against the wall next to the chair he put the sack in. He hung his cloak next to the fire, which was crackling in the hearth, warm and comfortable. Such a large room probably got frightfully cold at night, so he was glad someone had been in to build the fire. With his current state, he was unsure if he could do it himself.

Slowly, Kysis pulled off his new armor, laying the pieces out on the small round table not far from the bed. He was not used to being able to spread out so much, but it was nice, for once, and he would not deny himself the ability to do so. Kysis had seen the rooms the others were afforded; though much smaller than the Lord De'Arnise's, they were still far larger and nicer than the rooms they rented at the Copper Coronet. It was a welcome change, much like Nalia's disposition was turning out to be.

The fact that she would let mere adventures stay in rooms normally occupied by nobles spoke volumes for her progress.

Kysis placed the last part of his armor, his helm, onto the table, managing to wiggle out of his boots as he walked for the bed. The comforter was thick, the embroidery intricate, the family crest covering most of the cover. Kysis ran his hand over it. The cloth was smooth, soft, far more lavish than anything he was used to, even at Candlekeep. Candlekeep had been a warm place in the sense that it was where he grew up, where he had been the most at home, but that was all changed now. Sarevok had made sure of it. Kysis was never welcome back there, nor would he accept an invitation back if it was offered.

With a deep breath, Kysis turned, falling backwards. He landed on the bed, sinking in. Its plush folds rose to envelop him, if only for a moment. Kysis let out a long, content sigh. He was far from happy, but he was in a middle ground for now, neutral, and that was a start. It had been far too long since he could say he felt such a way.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Kysis waited for a moment, holding his breath as he counted the seconds. If it was Jaheira. she would have already come in. Yoshimo was the same way. If it was Anomen, he would have called out something, some greeting or request. Kysis waited a moment longer. He did not hear any footsteps heading away, or anything else which would give him some indication of who it was.

Sitting up, Kysis finally called out. "Come in." He let his legs dangle over the side of the bed. It was a very tall bed, a finely carved set of wooden stares at one side of it, going completely unused. Kysis' feet did not touch the floor unless he stretched his toes downward, tension pulling hard at the top of his leg and foot until it felt like he might get a cramp. That was just fine, as Kysis did not toss and turn as often as one might expect, considering his dreams, and the bed was big enough to accommodate such shifting without fear of him falling off.

As silence stretched on, he wondered if the knocker had left without him realizing it. Kysis had keen ears, and rarely had any reason, what so ever, to doubt them. Now was no different.

The door opened, a form stepping in. His armor was illuminated by the amber glow of the fire, almost giving the plates the sheen of fire enchantments. Kysis looked up, seeing that face, strong, masculine, with just a bit of a shadow showing over the jaw line where coarse hairs were starting to poke out. Cernick offered a small smile as he closed the door with a quiet click behind him. His movements were slow, as though he was trying to mask his movements, make sure others did not hear.

Though Nalia had said the rooms were just down the hall, they were quite a ways down that main hall, and none of them would be able to hear. Unless Cernick feared prying ears just outside the room, they were safe.

"You came back." Cernick came halfway across the room, stopping beside the table where Kysis' armor was laid out. He looked down at the table, smile growing just a little. "This armor... it is much more suiting to one such as you." Cernick ran a gloved hand over the plates, down, fingers tracing down over the lace-work of belts which covered the abdomen. Kysis shivered watching him, chewing lightly at the inside of his lip, trying not to hold his breath.

"It is good to feel safe again." Kysis looked down. This conversation was awkward, to say the least. There was a palpable tension in the air. Kysis stared at the smooth stone floor, kicking his legs slightly. It felt childish; he stopped. Kysis forced himself to look up again. Cernick was walking towards him, their eyes locking if only for a moment.

A gloved hand rose, stroking Kysis' cheek. Kysis could not help but lean in to it, letting out a pleasant sigh. He could feel the air shift as Cernick took a step closer, armored legs touching Kysis' unarmored ones. Cernick leaned closer, speaking when their faces were barely a finger width apart. "I am glad to see you back in safety." Cernick leaned forward, lips pressing together lightly, tenderly. Kysis leaned into it, enjoying the touch, how it was almost soothing. The Captain ran his hand around the back of Kysis' head, fingers lacing through pale hair.

In a moment, they were moving backwards, Kysis' back lowered onto the comforter, Cernick leaning over. It was uncomfortable, as his legs were still dangled over the side, and Cernick was still in full armor, the various plates poking him, digging in as they pressed together.

They parted mouths for only a moment, Cernick pushing his tongue in, Kysis half gasping around the intrusion. It felt good, but wrong. There was something very wrong about it. Kysis wrapped his arms up around Cernick's neck rather than pulling away, legs parting to let Cernick lean over him more comfortably. It would be better without Cernick's armor, but the Captain seemed perfectly content with their mouths entwined for now.

A loud knock pounded on the door. They jumped, Cernick standing immediately, cheeks dark and rosy, eyes hazed with want. Kysis didn't want to stop, but they were left with no choice. Before Kysis could say anything, Cernick was sliding beneath the bed, hiding in the darkness, concealed by the bed's skirts. It muffled his slightly heavier breathing as well, though the flush on Kysis' face, his own ragged breaths, would be harder to explain.

"Kysis, might I have a word with you?" Anomen's voice came through the door. Getting up, Kysis carefully smoothed out his clothing, walking for the door. He opened it, giving Anomen a tired look. He did not even have to fake his fatigue.

"Yes, Anomen?"

"Might I come in?" Anomen looked past his shoulder, as though looking for something. Kysis frowned, but moved out of the way, motioning for him to come in. A quick look around showed that, thankfully, there was no sign of Cernick's presence. Kysis forced a smile, Anomen displaying a real one. The squire took a seat in one of the unutilized chairs.

"What troubles you?"

Anomen leaned back in the chair, rubbing a hand over his mustache in thought. The squire always did that when he was contemplating something. Kysis wished Anomen had spent more time thinking back in his own room, rather than coming to ask without a clue of what the words were going to be. Quickly, Kysis cast a glance at the bed, leaning on the table to mask the look as just being tired. Thankfully, Anomen took it that way.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my friend, but this has weighed heavily on my mind since our departure from Firkraag's lair." This was going to take some time. Kysis seated himself across the table from Anomen, glad that the squire's back was to the bed; Kysis himself was facing it, a precaution. It was one that he felt was needed, though he was certain Cernick was intelligent enough that he would not try coming out, or sneaking out.

This was a delicate situation. Kysis wished the hammering of his heart would slow to a normal pace.

"Aerie was right. You... there was a frightening look in your eyes when you beheld Tazok. I am well worried for you, and had to broach this subject lest it be shoved into the dark, like so many facts of your existence have been." Anomen clasped his hands together on the table, leaning forward now. "What did you feel, as you looked at Tazok there? Why was the lure so strong?"

Kysis pursed his lips. "This is not a topic I wish to discuss with you, Anomen."

"The sanctity of your very soul is at stake!" Anomen's voice was a low, whispered hiss. Kysis let his eyes trail back to the bed skirt, where Cernick was effectively hidden. It felt like there was a knot in his chest. Of all the people Kysis did not want to hear this, Cernick was perhaps at the top of the list. It was wrong to keep it from him, but was it so terrible to try and preserve the one tendril of happiness he had been offered since he first left Candlekeep?

"I resisted the urge, and that is what mattered. It is true, I have not struggled against this dark will all of my life, but ever since it first manifested, I have done an efficient job of finding the path of right and staying true to it. The case with Tazok was no different." Kysis ran a hand back through his platinum hair, righting the strands. He had not noticed they were disheveled until his hand smoothed them back. With a shake of his head, he sent his hair back into its usual chaotic halo, trying not to worry so much about it. Though Anomen seemed to have a very thick skull, he wasn't blind, and might, just might, notice Kysis' unease. He did not want to have to explain it.

"Will you always be able to resist the urge, though? Will it always be so easy with you?" Anomen's voice trembled. There was anger there. Kysis was taken aback, throat and mouth feeling very dry all of a sudden. He wished he had not been so quick to strip his armor, feeling utterly unprotected here. If he had to defend himself... his weaponry was across the room, placed close to the bed in case of a nighttime attack, not expecting one so close to home. "How is it that normal humans can struggle and fail against the forces of evil when one like you, born of murder, can just bat it away like nothing?"

"I am a paladin, Anomen. It is my duty to combat evil wherever it manifests, including inside myself." Kysis stood, face cold, stoic. His grey eyes locked on Anomen, harsh, but not cruel. Not yet. "You, of all people, should know that." His voice was curt, just as unforgiving as his face. Kysis strode across the room with gliding, easy steps, and he opened the door, holding it so. "Get out."

Shakily, Anomen stood. His worry seemed more now, after this discussion, than when he entered with his concerns. The squire quickly left, obviously not wanting to linger. The fear wafting off him was thick, undeniable. Kysis had to close his eyes, take a deep breath to calm the sudden spin of his head. With trembling hands, he shut the door, resting his back against it.

The loud scrape of armor against stone made his eyes open again. Kysis cringed. It was a terrible noise, but there was nothing that could really be done about it as Cernick slid out from under the bed. The Captain of the Guards stood, dusting himself off, fixing his hair self-consciously. His gaze was still warm when he looked at Kysis, though there was something slightly different about the face.

"There is something that I haven't told you."

"Are you part of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart?" Cernick sounded crushed, though for entirely the wrong reasons. Kysis let out a sigh, almost stumbling as he went to sit back down on the bed. He just wanted to sleep.

"No. They would never have me." Kysis laid down on his side, curling into himself slightly. He did not want to say these words, but he had to. "My father, he... I was a product of the Time of Troubles. Bhaal is my sire."

"Bhaal." The name sounded hollow on Cernick's lips. He sat as well, beside Kysis' knees, staring across the room. Kysis turned his head to bury it in the plush comforter, hiding his face, his eyes as he screwed them shut. "You are half god. It... it makes sense. I saw you approaching, in the rain, and it looked like the showers were silver around you rather than the grey sheets hitting everyone else."

"The prophecies state—"

"No. Not you." Cernick pressed a gloved finger to Kysis' lips, hushing him. "It is not in you to steep the lands in blood."

Kysis wished that was true. He moved his head back from Cernick's hand, propping himself up on one elbow. "What of the dreams, then? As I sleep at night, I am haunted by the taint, tormented with my terrible purpose. I…" Kysis bit his lip, looking away. "I don't want to be alone."

The rigid way Cernick was sitting suddenly softened, almost melting. He leaned down, voice a whisper on smiling lips. "I'll stay with you." A quick peck was afforded, and it was enough, comforting. Cernick climbed off the bed, working at the straps of his armor. Kysis turned away, pulling off his tunic and setting it aside. He fished out his coarse sleeping pants from his pack, quickly changing in to them, not daring to glance back.

The longer he was a paladin, the further he felt from his former self, so unashamed of anything, so free. He felt a shyness burning in him as he changed, almost afraid that Cernick's eyes might be on him. He was almost scared of the thought of intimacy, when, in the dark, quiet nights of Candlekeep, he used to revel in it. As a paladin, he could no longer be that way. He had vows to uphold.

It seemed as though Cernick understood that, as he slipped into the bed behind Kysis, still half clothed. Kysis leaned back in to him, Cernick wrapping a protective arm around his trim, sculpted waist. With a content sigh, Kysis settled against him, quickly falling asleep in his arms.

0 0 0 0 0

The bed was cold upon waking. Kysis opened his eyes slowly, finding himself staring at a plush pillow. He had barely moved all night, still in that same position. More importantly, he did not remember having any dreams. A slight smile traced his lips as he rolled over, head turning. There was no one. Kysis' smile fell, dissolving on pale lips. The bed was otherwise empty, explaining why it was so cold. There was a note in messy handwriting on the pillow, Kysis quickly grabbing it.

_I wish I could have stayed through the night with you, but I could not risk being found out, not by the other guards, whom I have yet to gain the loyalty and trust of, and not by your companions. I am sorry._

It was signed Cernick. From the way the lines were not straight on the little piece of torn parchment, Kysis knew the Captain of the Guard did not bother to light a candle, and it had been before dawn when he wrote it. He was right, even if Kysis did not want to admit it. If Amn was so strict about magic, he could only imagine how strict, how paranoid, the people would be about homosexuality. He already knew that the Order frowned upon it, thought it evil; Kysis was glad Cernick was sensitive about such things.

The door opened, Kysis discretely tucking the piece of parchment under the other pillow as he turned his head mock-groggily towards the door. Jaheira peered in with a frown, her gear already on, pack on her shoulder. "I do not remember you being so lazy in the past. Get up already. We must go."

Jaheira closed the door with a bang, Kysis smiling into the pillow the moment she was out of sight.

He did not want to leave the Keep, leave Cernick, but he would have to for now.


	10. Blindness

**Disclaimer:** I do not own BG2 at all.

**Warning:** violence, disturbing images, morbid, macabre and noir things. It's supposed to be really creepy. *crosses fingers* Yeah right. Me? Write something creepy? HAHAHAHA.

**Author's Note: **Write or Die is my new best friend. I'll go back through and edit this whole fic top to bottom once July is over and the competition is won. Mwahaha. I personally hated this mission, but it had to be done, since I do want Keldorn in this.

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part X: Blindness**

The longer they were in Athkatla, the more deeds they did, the more people knew who they were. It also seemed that more people were willing to approach them about troubles which needed adventurers, or at least bring up such difficulties to them, so they at least knew of the problem and could try seeking out the source. Upon coming back to the Copper Coronet, they were greeted not only by Bernard, but by some of the patrons, and locals whom they did not recognize. Much had happened since they left, it seemed.

"I went to service this morning but there was hardly anyone there. Half the priests were gone, and even more of the usual crowd." The woman wrung her hands together, face twisted with worry. It seemed like most of the people in the slums relied on the church for some shred of hope. With services smaller than usual, or not happening at all, as some people had stated, that hope was faltering.

It worried Kysis. All of the priests Kysis had known were chained to their faith, would never leave it for anything. Services in the morning were a must. Kysis was surprised Anomen had yet to complain and ask he at least be able to go to service in the temple of Helm in the mornings. Then again, Anomen was a squire of the Order; he was prepared to be away from the church for long amounts of time.

"We should go to the Temple District. I would like to know what is at the bottom of this." Anomen was frowning, watching the woman, looking around. Some other patrons were around, nodding though they did not speak up to add their own stories this time. There was definitely something wrong.

Kysis strummed his fingers on his sword's hilt, thinking for a moment. "Yes, we will go." There was no other option. Though Kysis was not a man of faith himself, he understood how strongly people felt about the subject, how people missing from the holy places could literally break a city.

That was a worrying thought.

Quickly, Kysis turned, striding to their usual table. Yoshimo and Jaheira were sitting, eating while talking. They fell silent upon his approach, but it did not draw any alarm. It was a natural quiet, not a secretive one.

"We are going to the Temple District. Apparently there is a slew of missing people there. Perhaps we can help in finding them."

Yoshimo did not look all that pleased. Jaheira remained neutral, no judgment flashing over her features. It was not much longer before they had finished their lunches, gathering their gear for them to head out. The district itself was not that far of a walk, through tight streets and blind turns. Luckily, they ran in to no trouble. The sun was high above them, shadows minimal, not allowing for many hiding places.

The Temple District was oddly silent. Not even the birds were singing. Kysis let his eyes slide over the stables entrance of the Order, not recognizing the guards outside, thankfully. Anomen waved, and they gave greetings back, but it was not enough to stop their progress. Kysis quickened his pace, hoping to pass that building by as quickly as possible.

They headed north, towards the main temples. There was a gathered crowd. Kysis slowed, stopped. There were commoners gathered, priests and priestesses, knights. At the center of the throng was a man. Through the ruckus, Kysis could not hear much, only words here and there.

The Unseeing Eye. False gods. One true god. A new religion.

This did not bode well.

Kysis moved to the side of the street as the crowd dispersed, watching the people go. Many of them followed the man in orange robes, the one whom had been speaking of these blasphemous things. Kysis did not know the full breadth of his claims, but what he did hear was enough. This was unnatural. Kysis watched the man as he passed, trying not to stare at the empty sockets where his eyes once were. The man was blinded, eyes removed.

"You there, you are for hire? Come with me." A priest had been hanging at the back of the crowd, arms crossed, gaze stern. Kysis recognized his attire as that of a priest of Helm, one which stayed in the church rather than adventuring as Anomen did. The priest turned and began walking before they could give any answer, Kysis practically having to jump to follow.

The temple of Helm was a grand place, the front adorned with a palm that had an open eye on it. Helm was known as the All Seeing Eye, a neutral force, the middle ground keeping both sides in check. Kysis paused only for a moment outside of the temple, taking a deep breath before walking in. A tingle ran over his shoulders, along his spine. His hands ached, just slightly, but enough to be noticeable. This was a place where he was not entirely welcome, and at the same time, he was not banned, either.

The worst of his fears past, Kysis approached the man at the center of the temple, companions not far behind him, though they kept back. Kysis fiddled with the ring on his right pinky, the ring of Human Influence, knowing it would effect here whether he consciously willed it or not.

"Did you hear all that the heretic Gaal said today?" The priest's arms were crossed, face stoic, though his lips were pursed too hard to be considered a slack, straight line. It was obvious that he was displeased. Kysis shook his head, certain the priest did not wish to hear his words on it. "The All Seeing Eye of Helm demands to know about this new cult. They pluck out their eyes. Such blindness is appalling to Helm. We ask that you seek and destroy."

Kysis had felt a strange, dark magic coiled around the blinded man's form. It had felt wrong, in the pit of his stomach. The blindness was unnatural, and something was terribly amiss. "Then we shall go. Where is this cult making its base?"

"We have already sent Lord Keldorn Firecam, Knight of the Order, and he has yet to return. Helm allows us to only see so far, as this cult blocks our vision with their lack. It is somewhere in the sewers of this district." The priest let his eyes rake over Kysis, his companions. Kysis felt uncomfortable under that gaze, like the priest could see straight into his core with Helm's aid. The strange part was that he did not feel the same way about Anomen, who was a cleric devoted to Helm, and yet... There was no time to debate faith, and Kysis was certain Anomen would not wish to hear it.

"He is a very pious Knight of the Order, Kysis. It would do best if we join with him in this quest." Anomen sounded and looked pleased, though it felt only a mask. Kysis frowned. Another member of the Order was not what he wanted to deal with at this time.

There was no choice.

"We will seek him out, then."

0 0 0 0 0

The sewers were not as pitch black as Kysis was expecting, a few torches flickering here are there near the ladders. After some wiggling and being forced to use his sword like a pry bar, Kysis managed to get one of the torches out of its holder, lifting it to cast more illumination on the old tunnels. Thankfully, this was the Temples District, which had to be relatively clean compared to other districts in the city, such as in the slums or the docks. Kysis did not want to think about what putrid smells and what foul mutations might have taken place in those sewers.

Trying to ignore the smell to little avail, Kysis led the way, walking carefully along the stone lip at the side of the tunnel. The water below it was dark, murky. It would ruin his boots, pants and the traps on his armor. Kysis was not willing to do that, especially with how they were struggling to raise funds, to half-decently replace their gear and stay alive in the City of Coin. They did not need to replace their clothing and parts of their armor as well.

The flickering flame did not cast as far as he wanted, but there was little he could do about it. There was no mage with them to cast a light spell. Anomen could not cast any form of daylight spell as well, though he was trying to learn such things. Currently, they were far above him. It was frustrating, to say the least. Kysis lifted the torch higher, frowning as he saw a thief slink back into the shadows. The thief, whoever he was, did not make any move towards them.

Down one tunnel, the sewers abruptly stopped into old, rotting wooden railing. Kysis carefully leaned over the sheer fall, holding his torch out. He could only see a small distance of the way down that black void. A chill breeze wafted up from the depths. Kysis pursed his lips, moving back from the drop. They continued along the curve of the sewer tunnels, and then the sounds of battle reached his ears.

Kysis knew the sound of undead wailing in battle, knew the feel of the unnatural magic keeping them alive, even if it was just a mockery of life. Kysis handed the torch to Anomen, pace quickening as he drew his sword. Sarevok's sword was strapped across his back, at an angle to stop it from getting in the way. That was better than on his hip, where his hand had constantly brushed against the dread blade and felt a shock. His feet padded quickly over slick rock, Kysis readjusting his grip on the hilt of his sword.

With a lunge, he surprised a zombie, if such a thing could be done, sword slicing easily into putrid flesh. The skin came off in chunks, goo-like blood coming off on his sword. With an upward swing, he decapitated the zombie, skewering another a second later. Kicking, Kysis sent it against the wall and off his sword, another sword striking to finish it.

"Hold! Who are you, to be prowling these sewers?" The man's voice was cultured, aged. He took off his helm, revealing hair streaked with grey and a face set with deep wrinkles. Vigor still blazed in his eyes.

"The Church sent us to investigate the Cult as well, Lord Firecam." Kysis cast a glance down the tunnel to be sure there were no more undead before flicking his sword dry and sheathing it. He pulled off his helm shaking his head to move his platinum hair from being plastered against his face and atop his head. "I am Kysis."

Keldorn gave him a long look over before nodding, no doubt having scanned him for evil, made sure he was no illusion. The old paladin turned his gaze then to the others, a smile spreading on his lips. "Squire Anomen! It is good to see other members of the Order out on the path of righteousness. Why didn't you tell me you had a squire, Kysis?"

"I am most definitely _not_ his squire!" Anomen's mustache looked to actually be quivering. It was an amusing sight; Kysis had to try hard not to laugh.

"He speaks true. I may be a fellow paladin but I am no member of the Order, Lord Firecam." Kysis looked down the tunnel again, grey-blue eyes not seeing as far as he wished they would. "Is this where the people have been disappearing to?"

"This is the tunnel. From what I have heard, there are many ruins underneath us, and the Cult may have taken up residence in one of them." Keldorn looked down the tunnel as well, gaze disapproving. Kysis could already see that he was a very pious man. He also seemed understanding in a way Anomen was not. Kysis felt comfortable around him. Then again, it was one of the effects of paladins; Kysis knew this well, from seeing it work on others around him.

"Shall we?" Kysis pushed his hair back, replacing his helm on his head.

Keldorn laughed warmly, putting his own helm back on. "Of course!"

0 0 0 0 0

The eerie echo of chants reached their ears long before they located the source of those resonating tones. Kysis frowned when the discordant tones first came into his range of hearing, his pausing, waiting a moment. The sound did not stop. At that time, Kysis had thought nothing of it, but as they drew nearer, the others started to perceive it as well. What worried him, or at least vaguely frightened him, was the fact that he had heard it before Jaheira; though she was only half elven, that was more than him, and the pointed eared people were supposed to have amazing hearing. It was yet another sign he did not wish to face.

The stench of the sewers was far behind except what clung to their persons, which thankfully, was not much. Kysis was not sure if he felt any more comfortable in the shallowest of the ruins, though. The walls and architecture were not all that different from modern day Athkatla, though a few of the flourishes were out dated, but still seen in older family estates, he was certain. What bothered him was the stillness of the air. It almost felt like a crypt. They had already encountered a pack of shadows and a few sickly, diseased creatures. Kysis wondered about what could possibly be further in the ruins, further buried in the past. Rather than pondering, he kept his sword drawn at ready.

"I do not like the feel of the room ahead, Kysis." Yoshimo stepped out of the shadows beside Kysis, making him tense. The thief's steps were too light, too agile to hear. He might as well have been one of the shadows. "I cannot find any of the workings of a usual trap, and yet..." Yoshimo frowned, staring ahead at the door. It did not look safe, with the wheel placed in the center of the room, begging to be approached, and the open door at the far side.

Kysis kept his sword in hand, readjusting his grip on the leather wrapped hilt. He missed his old sword, its familiar energy, the weave of wires over the hilt he had helped place himself. That was long gone, though. Kysis tightened his grasp, not wanting to get the weapon jarred from his fingers. His steps were slow, measured, nowhere near as nimble or quiet as Yoshimo's, though the thief insisted that Kysis could possibly learn to be so graceful. That was not a primary concern of Kysis', so he had yet to take Yoshimo up on his offer of special training, or "refining", as he had called it.

The moment he entered the room, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Kysis did not approach the center wheel of the room, eyeing it, but not daring to go closer. There was something wrong. He circled the outer rim of the room, the odd metal floor creaking with every shift of his weight.

With a thud, the door at the other end of the room pounded shut, a loud click affirming that it was locked. Kysis looked to the door he had just come through, dashing, only for it to thud shut as well. The hidden latch slid into place before he could reach the door. The was no handle, no hole to pick, nothing. Kysis pounded on the door, pommel of his sword showing a slight dent while the door showed nothing. Kysis lowered his shoulder, charging. Pain throbbed through his shoulder, but the door did not budge in the least.

A low hissing filled his ears. Kysis turned, squinting into the sudden fog. Gas. It was some sort of gas. A dull throb started at his temples, quickly radiating out. Kysis held his breath, lungs immediately starting to hurt. He hadn't gotten a full breath.

That wheel at the center of the room was the only out of place fixture he could remember.

Sheathing his sword, Kysis quickly strode down the middle metal planks, putting his hands on the valve. With a grunt, he pulled. It screeched, valve grinding around. The hiss slowly stopped. The fog dissipated. Kysis took a deep breath, face red, skin clammy. A sigh of relief came the moment the doors swung back open.

Refusing to waste any more time in there, Kysis crossed into the next room, keeping in the shadows of a column as he waited for the others. Their trek through the room was uneventful, the trap only going off once, thankfully. It would have been difficult otherwise, since Yoshimo had yet to see a way to disarm the mechanism, whatever it was.

There were two armored guards standing at the other exit of the room, the metal plates of their attire unpolished, uncared for really. Kysis let his gaze trail up, to their faces, to their eyes. Their eyes were closed, dark with bruises, eyelids not standing out at all, but rather sitting flat, as though the eyes were missing. It was the Cult. Someone came walking up between them, that man in the orange robes, who's eyelids were open despite the missing eyes. It was sickening, seeing the dark red sockets, lacking anything but connective tissues. Kysis had to swallow back the bitter bile in his throat.

Taking a few calming breaths, Kysis straightened himself, walking out from the shadows, the others right behind him, falling into formation. They could not just storm the compound. From the sound of the chant, now much louder, there were lots of people inside. Storming the compound would be suicide. The two guards raised their weapons, changing their stances immediately.

"Visitors to our Church? Ahhh, but you have filthy eyes. Such abominations shall not be allowed in our ranks!"

"Wait. I heard your speech earlier above ground and I wish to know more of this god of yours." Kysis almost smiled, though he stopped himself. It took all of his will power not to stare into the empty sockets of Gaal's eyes, not to gag in natural reflex to the sight of them. His stomach was churning just talking to the heretic. His every survival reflex was telling him to leave, to run away. The place beyond the two guards and Gaal reeked of evil. Kysis could feel that foul presence emanating through the door, trying to permeate his skin. His blood was stirring at its call.

"And are you willing to endure the trials of the faithful?"

Those trials... Kysis faintly heard a scream through the low, disordered chant coming from within this strange, subterranean temple. A shiver crawled up his spine. The fine hair on the back of his neck had yet to lay back down. The trials were no doubt where the faithful lost their eyes. Kysis would not pluck his eyes out, not for this Cult of the Eyeless, not for the All Seeing Eye of Helm. His vision was far too precious, his long term goals too great.

"Perhaps there is a way I can serve the Church with my eyes intact, at least for now. I... I want to serve, I really do." Kysis fiddled with the ring on his finger, feeling its power tingle through him, just a faint trace. He hoped this priest, Gaal, did not sense the difference. "I just cannot come to terms with the loss of my eyes just yet. Is there not something?"

It worked.

Gaal smiled, wrinkles irrupting on his previously smooth skin. "Why yes, I think there is a way for one such as you to prove your faith." The priest rubbed his hands together in thought, lips pursed into a thin line. He was obviously thinking hard. "There is an artifact we seek, in the lower reaches of these ruins. Many faithful have been sent to retrieve it and none have returned. Adventures like you could perhaps succeed where they have failed."

"What are we searching for?" Kysis felt Keldorn take a step closer, just behind his left shoulder. The younger paladin did not make any move to show he knew of the advance. There was no way they could attack here and survive. There had to be another way.

"There is a rod, an ancient power, in the ruins. We need it." Gaal pulled a key out from the folds of his robes, holding it out. Kysis quickly took it. "This is the key to the lower reaches. Be quick, for we require it soon."

Kysis took the key and quickly hooked it to his belt, turning to go. These tunnels were no place for he and his allies to discuss this over. Whatever this rod was, Kysis had a bad feeling about it. That never boded well, especially not with his keen senses.

0 0 0 0 0

There were former cult members deeper in the tunnels, defectors, eyeless who could no longer see. It was like there had been a spell cast on all the faithful, which left them utterly blind and helpless once removed. It was an easy decision, to help them, to retrieve the half of the rod in the lower ruins, find the half held by the wicked Beholder at the roots of this Cult and destroy it. The plan was elaborate, but it had to work.

The moment Kysis had the hidden half of the rod in his hands, he knew he had to destroy it. The raw power emanating from the rod, just half of it, had almost knocked him clear off his feet. Kysis was not sure if he would be able to wield the reassembled artifact.

It was time to find out.

A phrase, so simple as "The eye is blind", had gotten them into the lower reaches of the cult compound. There were bones, old bits of rotted flesh, teeth, other grisly finds in the bottom of the pit, but it was the only way. There was a whole village of undead there to feed on the remains of those who did not meet the cult's standards of faith. Kysis had not dared linger long enough to count the sets of bones, estimate just how many had died by the Cult and Gaal. It made him feel nauseous.

How many families had held out hope that their loved ones were still alive, somewhere, out there, just waiting to be found? How many lives would be crushed when they found out that their beloved was blinded or slain? Kysis quickened his pace, rope bound bridge swaying under his fast strides. He could see a hole in the cliff face ahead, perhaps the way into the Beholder's layer, perhaps another area for the damned to walk. It was the only exit he saw to this putrid area, and it was that way he took. There was no way to climb back out of the pit they had jumped into, after all.

The moment Kysis passed through that hole in the stone, the moment he regretted it.

The walls were alive. The pink and red flesh encasing them pulsed with life, beating like a heart, breathing like lungs. Kysis could feel his booted feet sink in to the flesh of the floor, bruising it in some spots, even. He had to clap a hand over his mouth at first, trying not to lean on the living walls in any way.

This was the kind of place Beholders nested. Kysis could tell a hive from sight, even though he had never been in one before, had never wanted to be in one, no matter how long it took to avoid such an occurrence. There was no way to now. He had to end this cult, its evil, before it could do any more harm to Athkatla.

As the others entered behind him, they had similar reactions, for the most part. Keldorn staggered, gagging before he could right himself, his resolve. Anomen looked perturbed. Jaheira frowned, a quick prayer to Silvanus tumbling from her lips. Yoshimo was the only one seeming unaffected, starting to walk ahead, around a throbbing red pillar and into the connecting tunnel. Kysis unsheathed his sword, following closely after, trying not to make much noise though his boots made wet sounds on the fleshy floor. There was no real way to avoid it, even Yoshimo making noise at his passing.

There were not many people in the tunnels, if at all. They had explored five various tunnels part way before spotting a group of blinded priests, smaller, young Beholders floating in the air around them like task masters. Kysis could feel the dark magic sheathed around them, a vile cocoon which no doubt gave them sight, at least partially. He doubted anyone in their right mind would willingly serve a beholder unless they were very evil to begin with, and even then it was questionable. What the priests and followers could see had no doubt been altered by the beholders. For all Kysis knew, these frightful tunnels may have looked like gilded halls to them.

Magic was a tricky thing.

Yoshimo crept through the shadows, keeping close to the wall. Kysis couldn't tell where the light was coming from, if it was the walls, the ceilings, the yellow swollen bulbs protruding here and there, or the Beholders themselves. They did not have time to find out. Kysis walked along the wall slowly, to avoid suspicion, sight. The young beholders were facing away from him, the blinded followers, facing towards him, having no sight of him at all. This was precarious, as he was not concealed in the darkness like Yoshimo, nor was he well protected against magic. They had to time this just right.

Kysis lifted his hand, showing three fingers. And then two. And then one.

In tandem, they jumped, Yoshimo plunging his katana into the center orb of the Beholder closest to him, swinging around to avoid the beast's nasty bite. Kysis thrust his sword upward, sliding, cleaving off three eye stalks at once by some miracle. When it spun with a screech, Kysis thrust his sword again, burying it in that center eye as well, slicing through it. Both young beholders fell, hitting the ground with a wet thud.

The blinded followers finally seemed to notice them. It was not the singular beholders controlling them. Their thoughts had just been elsewhere. Kysis quickly retreated around the corner, Yoshimo stepping back into the shadows, soon rejoining him in the left tunnel. The others were there waiting. Kysis kept his voice to a whisper, just in case. "I do not want to hurt any of the followers if at all possible. Once we have killed the Unseeing Eye, they should be freed from his thrall."

The others nodded, agreeing. These people had been tricked and charmed, perhaps with an exception of Gaal, but not even that was certain. Kysis wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, even if he doubted any of them would give him the same sort of treatment. They were tricked into evil, after all. His blood was innately so.

Frowning, Kysis led on, hurrying down the next tunnel they had yet to search. The entrance was down it, stairs leading up into the middle of the temple compound. Kysis jogged past it, waving for the others to do so as well. They could not linger there long. Other people were bound to come down at some point. It was too great a risk.

The next chamber over was humming with power. Kysis peeked around the corner, seeing the young Beholder hovering there, a silent, frightful guard. Its main body was gnarled, scarred, a putrid color, with that massive eye in the middle and a fang filled mouth gaping just below that. Various eye stalks protruded from the top of its head, hanging limp like a wig of snakes currently, though Kysis had seen how fast they could snap to attention, attack. The magic held in those eye stalks could prove deadly very quickly.

Yoshimo had out a bow, the bow he had with him when they found him. He was stringing an enchanted arrow, striking the head against the pommel of his katana to ignite it. His lips moved to count to three, and he sprung, rolling out into the chamber, pulling back the string, firing. Kysis heard a growl, the sound of fire taking. Yoshimo fired another arrow. Readjusting his sword, Kysis jumped out from behind the wall, rushing, Keldorn just behind him. It was a matter of seconds before the young Beholder was down, mangled and no longer a threat.

The half of the rod in his pack was humming loudly, vibrating against his back. Kysis knelt down, flinching as he peeled back the red skin on the center pillar of the room. There the other half of the rod was, humming loudly to the one in his pack. Taking out the half he had, the other half jumped to it, twisting, forming into a whole without his touch. The completed rod fell into his palm.

A loud rumble reached his ears, jarring him from his momentary victory.

The entrance to the chamber was filled with a massive form, the Unseeing Eye, that enormous, elder Beholder. A wide, coiled smile cut through the lower half of its face, skin pulled back enough to see the daggers that were teeth.

_Die._ The word echoed lowly, a low purr of a voice, in the back of his head. Kysis glanced back, for a split moment; the others seemed to have heard it to.

Holding his breath, Kysis lifted the rod.

The concussion wave made him stagger backwards, Kysis straining hard to not get knocked over. His hand felt numb and consumed by a searing pain at once, whole arm shaking. The light in the rod dulled, pulsing bright and dark, bright and dark, before finally giving in to darkness, seeming normal once more.

The Unseeing Eye was not dead yet.

"Kysis!" Jaheira plowed into him from the left, two of them falling to the living floor as a searing beam ripped through where he had just been standing. Kysis tucked the rod in his belt, struggling to stand.

Keldorn had already rushed the Beholder, family blade slicing in to it. Yoshimo jumped from the darkness behind it, katana cleaving down. Anomen hit it from the side, mace smacking in to it hard. The Beholder was slowly but surely sinking, unable to hold itself so easily aloft. Most of the eye sockets were burnt past recognition, just one still opened, bulbous eye staring at Kysis. Its main eye was red, bleeding, mouth riddled with gashes.

It was dead. It was actually dead. Kysis could barely believe it as he pushed himself up from the ground, shaking pink slime from his hand. The beast was dead.

The hive began to tremble, walls shaking, gurgling, as though the structure was somehow connected to the beast. There were people yelling, screaming, the frightened sounds echoing all throughout the tunnels. It was obvious that elder Beholder was the key to their sight, the thick veil of dark magic on the place dissipating as the last tendrils of life seeped from the creator. Kysis rubbed his left arm, trying to get the feeling back in to it to little avail. He hoped it would come back, and soon, as he would no doubt need to use it with his sword on the way out.

There would no doubt be a power struggle. Kysis could hear it happening already. There were some truly evil beings within the populace of the cult, and they would probably try to draw the tricked believers back in, try to bring back their sight through magical manipulation yet again. To control so many people, though, took a very powerful projector, and without the elder Beholder, that was not at all possible. It would take whole slew of illithid, or perhaps a horde of ancient liches to pull it off. Kysis could only pray that there were no such groups within Athkatla.

Another rumble took the network of tunnels, the mottled flesh coating the corridors contracting for a moment, making the way through smaller before relaxing again. They needed to get out. Picking up his accidentally dropped sword, Kysis dashed for the entrance he had spotted, feet slipping at first as he ran up the stairs, out of the hive. It was a hallway they emerged into, a hallway which was familiar, grey stone and intricate columns making up the path they took into the deeper, older ruins.

The rod felt like it was searing a frozen spot into his side. Kysis touched it, a brush of his finger tips jolting him. The rod was a vile thing and needed to be destroyed, like he had promised. There were people to free from bondage.

Kysis' pace slowed as he began the long descent, the wide stairs clear, clean, just as still and unused as they had been before. The air was a touch cool from the water ahead. Kysis took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air outside of the hive. The walls were rough stone or faced with columns now. He had yet to discern if they were of human make, or one of the other races which walked the world currently. Perhaps they were remnants of a race long past, humans having taken over residence of vacant ruins. Kysis mused as he walked, feeling his fingers stretch for the rod more than once.

That wicked device was calling to him. It was like an itch at the back of his head at first. Though most of the rod's power had been exerted in the casting of its one, destructive spell, there was still a great deal of magic left inside it. It truly was a cursed weapon. The itch turned in to a whisper. Kysis wasn't sure what was being said at first, but soon the command became clear, even if the words were still too obscure. Use it. That is what it wanted, what it tempted him with. There was so much power in that thin, bizarre rod, begging to be utilized. It would recharge with time, with care.

If he used it again, he was certain he would go mad.

Kysis dropped his hand away from the rod again, flexing his fingers. He swallowed at the lump which had formed in the back of his throat. Quickly, he crossed the precarious bridge which had tested him not all that long ago. The air was much damper on the other side, more laden with moisture. The group emerged into the lowest reaches of the ruins, where the massive lake and temple were, as well as the people chained to it. Children, men, women, elders, they all wallowed around by the pools, skin decaying just as their souls did. They stood as Kysis strode past with the rod, all eyes trained on him, on the faint light around him.

"You've returned! How is it that you have returned!?" The supposed leader of the group, a hunched man in black robes, extended his diseased hands, gasping, breaths crackling. There was wonder in his black eyes.

"I am a man of my word." Kysis brushed past him, not caring that those twisted, gnarled hands brushed against the dirty plates of his armor. There was a promise he had to fulfill. Kysis crossed into the temple without fear, approaching the center of the strange, bluish glass floor. His hand gripped the rod with certainty at first, but then his hands trembled, hesitant. Taking a deep breath, Kysis pulled the rod out, holding it high.

The rest of his companions had come in, keeping back on the balcony. The diseased wardens of the ruins had all filed in, gathered around on the massive temple floor, where they had at one time, ages ago, worshiped. It was time they were released.

"The rod is depleted. Destroy its evil!"

Nothing happened. The silence stretched on, Kysis squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to look at the rod lifted in his hand. He could feel its power seeping in to him, begging to be used one more time. He knew he could destroy that whole temple with a whim, channeling the force of that rod, but he did not, biting hard into his lip.

That was when the man in black spoke up, shouting out the name of the god the temple had once been dedicated to. Amaunator. He was a god of the sun; this place so far below it hardly seemed fitting. Kysis could feel the gathering of power there, though, condensing, until Amaunator's avatar had joined them in that room.

In a split moment, the rod was shattered, pieces vanishing into the air. Kysis breathed a sigh of relief, sinking to his knees. He had never been so glad to rid himself of something before as he was to rid himself of the rod, of its terrible presence. He was trembling all over, a cool sweat giving his skin a sheen. Kysis ran his hands back through his hair, pushing it back from his flushed face. His helmet wasn't on… it was on the floor before him, cast off at some point. Kysis could not recall when.

"Kysis, we need to report this to the Church." Keldorn put a hand on Kysis' shoulder, a fatherly gesture. Kysis stared at the hand for a moment before finally standing, rolling his neck to help take the tension off it. He picked up his helm, replacing it on his head. They did need to return to Helm's followers and break the news.

Hopefully, with the Beholder gone, the Temple District of Athkatla would be able to start the rebuilding process.


	11. The Calm Before

**Disclaimer: **I do not own. I just write this stuff. It's fun. XD

**Warning: **frivolous battle scenes, **yaoi**, slow pace, etc. Maybe dark themes, since I really can't avoid that. YAOI is bolded and underlined for a reason. This chapter is kind of limey, verging on lemon.

**Author's Note: **Do you guys have any idea how hard it is for me to write exposition? So painful, but alas, it must be done. The month is almost over, and I absolutely must get this 50k!!!

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part XI: The Calm Before**

"What is your group questing for?" Keldorn sat down across from Kysis, setting his bowl down on the small round table. This was not a topic he wished to discuss with Keldorn, of all people, though it would be necessary, if they kept the aging paladin with them. Eventually, everything would come out anyway. Kysis did not want Keldorn to find out about his heritage the same way Aerie had, from the mouth of another. Now was not the right time though.

"A dear childhood friend of mine, Imoen, is being held by the Cowled Wizards. I seek her release." Kysis stared down at the table, frowning. Imoen was not dear, though she was considered a friend, at least vaguely. They had grown closer on the road than they ever were within Candlekeep's walls. Imoen was always trying to pull pranks on monks and honored guests in the grand library, while Kysis had constantly been studying the tomes within, vying for another scrap of knowledge when he was not with the guards training or…

Kysis let his thoughts trail off, a thin smile tracing his lips.

Thankfully, Keldorn seemed to take it as nostalgia concerning Imoen. "I see that she means a great deal to you. What happened, that she ended up in the clutches of the Cowled Wizards?" His aged voice was filled with worry, warm, almost comforting. "They are the law here, and I would not wish to cross the law, as you certainly understand."

"Yes, I understand." Kysis strummed his fingers on the wooden table for a moment, lips pursed. Paladins were bound to the law. If Kysis did not believe whole heartedly that this imprisonment was not entirely legal, that there was something else going on here, he would not have pursued Imoen's freedom, childhood companion or no. It was how Imoen was taken, with who, and the fact that there was no trial, no way for Imoen to speak up, that drove him on. Kysis hoped Keldorn would understand that. "Do you know anything of the events at Waukeen's Promenade?"

"The collapse? I heard of it, though I was making preparations for my quest against the cult at that time, so I did not pay very much attention. However, I did see the aftermath. Those mages collapsed a whole end of the Promenade." Keldorn was entirely oblivious, that much obvious to Kysis.

"The mage who did the damage to the Promenade, routed the attacking Shadow Thieves and slaughtered those Cowled Wizards is named Jon Irenicus. Up until recently, he was my captor. He... did things to me which I would rather not recall. We narrowly escaped his lair before the collapse of the Promenade, only to be confronted by the mage himself. Imoen attacked him to help protect us, not knowing we were in Athkatla, much less Amn." Kysis fidgeted in his seat. He did not like talking about this, but forced himself to. "She was arrested with Irenicus and carted away by the Cowls as well.

Keldorn let out a long sigh, leaning on the table. "I assume the Cowled Wizards did not give any offer of fair trial or any sort of chance for Imoen to explain herself?"

"No. Irenicus tortured Imoen as well, and I fear what he may yet do to her, in custody or not. This man, he killed many of my companions, brutally, caged the others, like a waiting list for death and--"

"Speak no more. I can hear the fright in your voice and do not wish to be the cause of it. Kysis, you have my sword under your command, so long as you follow the righteous path."

"Thank you, Keldorn." Kysis tried to force a smile, though it did not even form. The memory of their stay under the Promenade, of what Irenicus did to him and his companions, weighed too heavily on him. Kysis could not push it away, despite how he tried. "I am trying to gather a large sum of gold. There is a group which approached me, offering to help me find Imoen if I paid them. I almost have it, but... I worry about what this organization might be."

"Ah, yes, a good thing to be wary of in this city. The Shadow Thieves operate here unchecked, as do the Cowled Wizards. I doubt the Cowls would give up one of their prisoners for money alone, though I would not put it past them to take bribes. The Shadow Thieves have whole rivers of gold, I am sure." Keldorn leaned back, thoughtful. Anomen sat down at the table, a bowl in hand. He ate and watched them equally, something Kysis disliked, but would humor.

"I do not think Imoen is being held here in the city. Wherever it is, the journey to her freedom will be a long one." Kysis glanced over at Anomen, having to fight not to frown at him. It was difficult, but somehow he managed. "Do you have a family?"

"Yes, though I have not seen them in a while." Keldorn stirred the slop in his own bowl, glowering at it. "My family has an estate in the government district. I have a wife and two daughters. They understand and support my duty to the Order."

It sounded like Keldorn was trying to convince himself more than convince Kysis. That was most likely. "I have almost gathered this amount, so we are bound to depart soon. I want to check in with Nalia on her Keep, to insure that everything is fine and rebuilding has continued. After that, I am going to see what else I can do to garner gold."

"In that case, I will return to my family to bid them farewell for now. When you return to Athkatla, I will no doubt be in my quarters at the Order. Anomen will know where to find me." Keldorn smiled. It was a warm gesture which reached his eyes. Kysis felt slightly better, though it did nothing to alleviate the pressure he was feeling to reveal his largest of secrets: his heritage.

Kysis took to staring down at the table instead, hands wringing together. "We will meet you there." As much as he did not want to go back to the Order headquarters, Keldorn was a good, strong paladin. It would be good to have him as an ally. Kysis was not willing to find another mage, not after what happened with Aerie, and intelligent, moral fighters were hard to find. Yes, Keldorn was the only option.

If he wanted to return to the De'Arnise Keep before sundown, he would have to leave now. Kysis excused himself knowing this, seeking out Jaheira and Yoshimo to inform them of his plans before heading off.

0 0 0 0 0

Nalia happily greeted them at the gates, once again in the somewhat plain attire they had first met her in. At first the worry did not show through, but soon enough, it was laid plain before them. She was worried about Lord Roenall, his son whom she was technically betrothed to, and what Amnish law might decree in the matter, considering she was no lord, and there was none to designate for the lands. Rebuilding was going well, but there was only so much Nalia could do. She was not sure if the commoners on her land would side with her if such a question of authority and rule was raised.

Kysis wished there was something he could do. He was a paladin, and wanted always to serve justice, to protect the defenseless, and yet, the way Nalia painted it, he would be worthless in this situation. If he was merely a mercenary, a fighting man with no other code to follow, he might be of use, but as it stood... Kysis did not know why she would want someone who was potentially baseless to help her rule over the lands as a temporary steward, but he would not argue with her.

"Just know, if the integrity of these lands are questioned, you may call on me." Kysis watched Nalia, eyes following the nervous motion of her pacing. It was very unladylike, but he doubted Nalia cared. She did not seem to care for most noble pretenses, after all.

"So Cernick keeps reminding me. Every problem in the Keep and he's always suggesting that you can help, that you will know what to do. I know you are busy, though, and I do not want to pull you from your own quests." Nalia plopped down at the chair she stopped before, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I just wish I could get rid of the Roenalls all together and just be done with it!" She threw her hands up in the air, the gesture seeming to relax some of her tension, at least.

"I wish there was more I could do. As you have stated, I am not a suitable temporary steward of the lands." Kysis pursed his lips. He was more than a capable warrior. There had to be some other reason. "If you wish me to stay here in the Keep for a while longer, it can be arranged. I have no previous duties or arrangements, though I will have to send message to my companions so they know where I am."

Only Jaheira and Yoshimo had accompanied him out to the Keep. Jaheira was currently somewhere out in the surrounding woods, communing with nature somehow or another. Yoshimo was... Kysis did not know where Yoshimo was. So long as the rogue did not get himself into any trouble, or thief anything from their host, Kysis would not ask. It was probably for the best that way.

"That could work, though I heard from Cernick that you are trying to save a friend of yours from the Cowled Wizards. You know, if you need a mage with you, I—"

"Keldorn is an Inquisitor of the Order and will be accompanying my group for the time being. If we are to come into conflict with any magic users, I am sure he can handle it." Kysis did not mean to speak so sternly, but it did come out curt, cold. If anything, Kysis would rather have taken Cernick with them than Nalia. Cernick was obviously experienced on the battle field, as had been demonstrated during the freeing of the Keep. As for whether Nalia knew what to do in combat was an entirely different matter, and a risk he would rather not take.

"Of course." Nalia forced a smile. It looked fake, harsh. She tapped her fingers nervously on the table, chewing at her lip before she finally stood again, starting to pace. Kysis tried not to watch the frenetic motions lest he feel nauseous. "It is just so hard, being here alone, having to deal with all of these problems. I don't know how my father managed! Oh, but he had my aunt around, not that she was much help, and me too. Everyone loved him so much."

Kysis could not exactly empathize with her, considering the fact that she was in the lap of luxury and did not have to do any of the rebuilding herself. She hired people for it. It made his stomach churn, thinking about how little nobles truly did, and how they reaped the benefits. Such was life, though, all the more so in Amn.

"In time, the people will come to love you as well. You must be willing to show them your compassion, though." Kysis tried at a smile himself, its coming out warm, charismatic. It was simple with him, like a switch. It always had been, though it was harder and harder since what Irenicus did to make a real smile. "Have faith."

"The problem is that I don't have faith like you and that cleric that travels with you and this paladin you've managed to find as well! I don't have faith. After what happened in this Keep, I don't know if I can." Nalia sat again, fidgeting. Her red brows drew in, frustration showing clearly in the creased skin between them.

"You aren't alone." Kysis tried to force the bitterness from his voice, but failed. "I did not mean a literal sort of faith where one prays for guidance from a god above. The gods exist but... none of them would openly welcome me, so in a way, I understand. Just don't give up, guidance or no."

With a huff and a roll of her eyes, Nalia stood, leaving the room. Kysis watched her go, not exactly surprised, but at the same time frustrated. He was perhaps the only paladin without a declared god, and that fact always confused whoever actually found out. Most people never even noticed, since Kysis could call on the same abilities as most paladins. People automatically assumed he was affiliated with Torm, Tyr, perhaps even Helm, though that was far less common. It was no surprise that Nalia refused to believe him.

If only she knew why, she might understand.

0 0 0 0 0

There was a tap on his shoulder, Kysis turning to see Yoshimo step out of the shadows. He was obviously practicing, which was a good thing. Kysis wanted them to be prepared for whatever might come. Thankfully, Yoshimo's random appearances and disappearances into shadow were no longer causing him to jump, making the whole process easier.

"I have noticed that you are quite light on your feet for a paladin, and very well balanced. It is a wonder you never took to my profession." Yoshimo grinned warmly, knowing full well that it was a back-handed compliment, considering Kysis' morals and Yoshimo's apparent lack of them. Whichever way the wind blew, Yoshimo went. That was something Kysis understood and tried to respect, though it was very difficult at times. "Now, don't get me wrong, you are a great paladin, but you could have a better advantage in battle."

"What are you implying?" Kysis glanced down the hall behind Yoshimo, seeing a servant pass into a room down there, another walking by without a glance at them. The De'Arnise staff was almost used to them now. It was not something Kysis could get used to. There was no home after Candlekeep.

"That, with a little fine tuning, you would be holy vengeance on the battle field, no moral smearing required." Yoshimo chuckled, offering a hand out to shake. Hesitantly, Kysis took it, being mindful of the ring on his finger. Yoshimo did not even try slipping it off, thankfully, otherwise there might have been holy vengeance to pay. "Shall we?"

"Where to?" Kysis pulled his hand back, checking over the sword at his side. He was glad he had not taken it off yet. The room he was using, the Lord De'Arnise's room once again, was at the other end of the Keep, a trek he was not entirely keen on making at the moment.

"The main courtyard would give us the space you need." Yoshimo turned and led the way, not once slipping into the darkness which hugged the narrow Keep hallways. They descended the main staircase and were soon out into the brightly lit Keep courtyard, a place Kysis was certain the rogue would feel uncomfortable in. Yoshimo drew his katana, a bright streak in the sunlight. The speed at which he did it was what surprised Kysis the most.

Kysis drew his own sword, the long, straight blade not allowing for the same kind of speed, nor had he ever really cared for the type of pace Yoshimo was talking about. Most enemies they had faced were slow to some degree, relying on brute force. His quickness on his feet had not been required, though it might give him a larger advantage than he was giving it credit for. He would have to see.

"You do not have to sacrifice accuracy for speed, you know. Do not look so pensive." Yoshimo laughed again. He truly was carefree. Then again, Kysis doubted he had really lost anyone in his life, or at least not anyone who mattered to him. Most bounty hunters were not so jolly, after all. Kysis wondered what he had been doing in Athkatla in the first place.

That was probably none of his business, though he always liked to know more about his companions than they often knew about him.

"Come at me." Yoshimo dropped into his ready stance, katana raised. Kysis assumed his own stance, quickly being corrected. He had gained no real formal training, not like Yoshimo back in Kara-Tur, so everything had been learned on the field, and as he was being informed, learned incorrectly. Stance modified, Kysis charged, Yoshimo ducking and rolling, coming up beside Kysis. The paladin had to stumble to block Yoshimo's next blow, footing unstable at best as he moved backward. When they pulled apart, swords at their sides, Yoshimo spoke again. "You have to be willing to use all planes available to you. Your enemies will show no mercy."

They attacked again, Kysis keeping up better this time, Yoshimo pausing now and then to correct the direction of a slice, change Kysis' grip on the hilt of his sword. The sun's angle had changed in the sky when they were done, both breathing hard, a thin trickle of sweat running down Kysis' temple.

"One more time."

Kysis nodded, rushing once more. Yoshimo dropped, foot swiping. Kysis jumped, landing in a roll behind Yoshimo. The thief quickly spun to block his attack, returning with a flurry, all easily knocked aside. Kysis rotated, thrusting his blade quickly right, left, right, and right again. Yoshimo twisted out of the first three, barely blocking the last one. The thief vaulted backwards, Kysis charging again, dropping into a slide before he reached Yoshimo. He sliced at the ankles, Yoshimo jumping and cutting downward. Kysis blocked with a bracer, blow vibrating painfully through his arm; it would bruise, nothing more. Using the pommel of his sword as a pivot point, Kysis swung around standing to start another round of attacks.

When they finally stopped, a lone applause reached their ears. Kysis and Yoshimo both turned in tandem, Jaheira standing there, clapping.

"That was impressive. I see you are really coming into your own now, Kysis." Jaheira was smiling, the first real one Kysis had recalled seeing since their capture.

"Thank you, Yoshimo." Kysis turned his appreciative look towards Yoshimo, who merely laughed.

"If you ever want to spar like that again, don't hesitate to ask. I need a good work out now and then." Yoshimo sheathed his sword, quickly walking off. That left Kysis and Jaheira alone. Her smile faded almost immediately.

"You are getting stronger daily." Jaheira did not sound entirely happy about it, not even pretending such a sentiment. "Your dark father's blood, or you?"

"Me." Kysis sheathed his own blade, trying not to glare. "I want nothing to do with my father or his dark gifts."

"That is good to hear. I was worried."

"You shouldn't be." Kysis was snapping more and more often lately. Especially at Jaheira. He was sure she had noticed it. "I'm fine."

Unwilling to start a debate on whether he actually was fine or not, Kysis turned, leaving the courtyard as well. He did not want to ask her to leave the group, but if this continued, he would have to.

0 0 0 0 0

After a day, Anomen joined them at the Keep. He was bearing a new helm, something enchanted to enhance charisma, a gift from the priests for helping liberate them from the Unseeing Eye. Kysis told Anomen to keep the helm with a smile; Anomen certainly needed its effects far more than he did. The cleric thankfully did not take it as an insult, however, quite smitten with a new helm to replace his plain, dinged one.

Around midday Kysis had Anomen send a message to the Order, to be given to Keldorn upon his arrival, unless they got to the Order first. That was always a possibility, since Kysis did not intend to stay at the Keep very long.

With Yoshimo's help, he went through all of their acquired items, sorting them out, guessing prices they could sell them for back at Athkatla. According to Yoshimo, Kysis' natural charisma would help them in negotiating the prices up, and supplies would get discounts other, unlucky customers would not be privy to. At first, Kysis had asserted this was hardly fair, to which Yoshimo rebutted that they needed the money, one way or another. That promptly ended Kysis' argument.

The rebuilding of the Keep itself was going well, though the lands surrounding were still having many issues. Nalia asked him to talk to a few of the "guests" which arrived with complaints, and he easily, perhaps too easily, soothed their fears and sent them on their way. He surveyed the fortification of the Keep itself, the progress in the cellars. They were being sealed up quite nicely.

Though Kysis did not want to stay and cause further disruption in the Keep, Nalia insisted they stay. It did help, not having to pay for rooms and food, being able to regroup, finally get rest which the cots in the back of the Copper Coronet did not provide. Kysis appreciated it, though he wished he could actually express his gratitude with more than hollow words.

"I saw you and Yoshimo sparring in the courtyard again. You two are amazing." Nalia broke the silence of their breakfast, Kysis looking up. She was meaning it as a compliment, though it made Kysis feel somewhat awkward. "Do you think you can go to the barracks? Not as a guard, but they have their routines in the morning and it would be an honor for you to help them." Nalia's nervous manner of speech, so unsure of herself, always sounding rattled, was setting him on edge.

The prospect of helping train the De'Arnise guards was exactly what he was looking for, a way to repay her without the exchange being at all monetary. However, the details of the proposition made his breath catch, though he tried to hide it. A slight flush dusted Kysis' cheeks, and he had to find a way to quickly explain it. Both Nalia and Jaheira were staring at him now.

"You flatter me. Really, it would be an honor for you to allow me access to your guards in such a way. I am glad to have your trust, and finally a way to return your kindness." Kysis cleared his throat, glancing quickly at Jaheira and then back down at his food.

Working with the guards would be an honor. He would be able to help them, and in turn, some day, perhaps help the needy because of it. The thought of being in close proximity with Cernick, with the captain of the guard's eyes carefully tracing his every movement and position, was what made his heart flutter. Kysis had to steer his mind quickly away from the thought of them both being exerted and sweaty before his flush deepened any.

"When do they do their routines?" Kysis quickly stuffed another bite into his mouth, concentrating on chewing.

"About an hour after their breakfast. Not everyone participates, as there need to be guards on duty at all times, but most of them will be there. Cernick usually leads them, but I'm sure he won't mind you taking his place for a day."

No, Kysis was sure he wouldn't mind at all. Kysis smiled, if weakly. "I'll make sure to be there."

"Oh, good!" Nalia clapped in joy, beaming now. She was quite clueless about the full situation, and that was for the best. As Cernick had stated, the others would not understand, nor would they be accepting. The fewer people who knew about them, the better. "I'll go tell him right now!"

Before Kysis could protest and express that he would like the deliver the message himself, Nalia was up from the table and gone to the barracks. He was looking forward to this as much as he was regretting it, having to concentrate hard on his food to quell his jitters. This could either go incredibly well or terribly bad. Only actually getting there and doing it would tell.

0 0 0 0 0

With a huff, Kysis lowered his sword, sheathing it slowly, reverently. The blade itself was barely enchanted, but it was a habit he had formed with his previous sword, a habit he was not likely to break any time soon. Kysis flexed his hands, fingers slightly stiff. He should have been used to it by now.

Not that long ago, he had been living peacefully in Candlekeep. Sometimes he trained with the local guards, but that was his only contact with a sword. His palms were calloused now, fingers rougher. At first, his hands had blistered from having to use the sword so often, an act he was not used to, still not entirely comfortable with. Before, death had been something he read about in books. Now he got to witness it, time and again.

Training with the guards was nostalgic in a way, only the roles were reversed. Kysis was no longer the awed pupil, now acting as the knowing instructor. It did not sit entirely right with him. Very little did these days.

"Are you ok?"

Kysis turned, a fake smile on his lips before he could stop it. That was another habit he was not likely to break soon. Even with Cernick, whom he felt understood a little better than the others, despite their fleeting moments together, was given that same treatment out of reflex. "I'm fine." Kysis could not help that response, either, as much as he just wanted to lean against Cernick, tell him everything that was wrong. The words were grated out anyway. It was how he had survived this long.

Cernick watched him for a moment longer, hazel eyes full of warmth, so welcoming, trying to draw out all of his maladies. Kysis looked away. It was all he could do to preserve their public appearance. Cernick brushed past him, pausing a moment to whisper, "I am here if you need me." And then he was gone.

For a while Kysis lingered in the barracks, watching the guards as they came and went, listening to their talk, which was mostly light hearted. They were so alive, in there, so happy. Kysis closed his eyes, soaking it in. It was around midday when he finally left the barracks, passing the food hall with little interest. His other companions were in there, eating with Nalia, but Kysis was not hungry.

His legs carried him upstairs of his own accord, and soon a bath was being drawn for him. Kysis went into the room alone, hanging a cloth to dry himself off with to the side, laying out the clothing Nalia had gifted to him. There were going to be guests at the Keep for dinner, so she had told him, at dinner the night before, that he needed to dress the part of a noble. She had to keep up pretenses, lest people question her mental capacity and side with the Roenalls.

With a long sigh, Kysis sank into the steaming hot water, relishing in its feel against his clammy skin. He was paler now than he was before, despite the time he spent outside, in the sun. One day Kysis had sat in the sun for a prolonged amount of time, only to come in and be just as ashen. His eyes looked less and less sapphire blue as well, more grey streaking his irises. They almost looked entirely grey now, which bothered him more than he cared to admit.

He was just waiting patiently for claws to pop out from his fingers and fangs to emerge in his mouth.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, Kysis cupping his hands, pulling water out of the bath. He watched the glistening droplets trickle out from the gaps in his hands, from between fingers, fixating on it for a moment before splashing it on his face, running his hands back over his platinum hair. Kysis kept his eyes closed, breathing in deeply. The hot water felt good on his cool skin.

Kysis heard the feet outside of the private bathing room before he heard the door open, head turning slightly. His back was to the door, something he seldom did, if ever. He could have sworn that he had locked it… Cernick slid inside, closing the door behind him. Kysis heard the click of the latch sliding in place.

"I would have knocked, but…" Cernick swallowed harshly, staring at Kysis, his back, for a moment before looking hastily away. "I'll go."

"It's fine. What do you need?" Kysis stared down at the water. It was mostly clear, something Kysis was becoming increasingly more self-conscious about. Kysis grabbed the soap from the stand beside the free-standing tub, bringing it into the water and rubbing. The water became murkier immediately, suds rising to the top like a protective screen.

"Something was bothering you earlier."

Kysis lowered his head, crystalline droplets of water flicking off his nose, tumbling back into the tub. It was Kysis' turn to try swallowing at a lump in his throat; it would not go away. He was not surprised. What exactly was it that weighed so heavily on his mind? Kysis lifted the bar of soap, lathering his right arm, shoulder.

Footsteps drew close, followed by the unmistakable creak of armor. Cernick tugged off his gloves, tucking them in his belt before taking the bar of soap. He gently rubbed it against Kysis' right shoulder, across his back, to his other shoulder. Great care was taken with all of it. Kysis sucked in a deep breath, holding it. That did not slow the sudden hammering of his heart.

"You are tense." Cernick brought the soap down Kysis' left arm, leaving suds in its wake. He massaged the bar back up Kysis' arm before letting it dip onto his chest, fingers brushing pale flesh here and there.

"Do I look human to you?"

Cernick's ministrations paused for a moment, just long enough to alert Kysis of the shock the captain of the guard must have been feeling. Yes, Cernick knew, but that knowledge was still fresh, despite the time he had to mull over it. Kysis did not like that hesitation one bit.

"Yes… for the most part. Your beauty is ethereal." Cernick kissed lightly the shell of Kysis' left ear, and then his cheek, lips lingering. His hand slid lower, rubbing the bar of soap over Kysis' firm abdomen. Cernick's hand was in the water now, surface coming just under the line of Cernick's armor. Cernick's hand slipped lower.

Kysis recoiled.

"You're shaking all over. Kysis… I'm sorry. I didn't…" Cernick pulled his hand from the water, setting the soap on its stand by the tub. He was about to go. Kysis lunged forward, grabbing Cernick's hand, lacing their fingers together. It was a pleading look he gave Cernick, which spoke louder than any words he could possibly offer. "Oh Kysis."

Immediately, Cernick pulled him in to a hug, Kysis flinching at the feel of the guard's armor on his wet skin. Cernick seemed to realize how awkward and uncomfortable it was, pulling back with a sheepish grin.

"Where I am going, I may not come back alive." Kysis pursed his lips, watching the water again. It had cleared just slightly, suds receding. He shifted uncomfortably. "If I die, will you—"

Cernick pressed a finger to Kysis' lips, hushing him, before replacing that digit with his own mouth. The kiss was slow, tender, reassuring. Cernick was the one to pull back, if just barely, lips touching when he spoke. "Then I want us to part with no regrets." The next kiss was rougher, needier, tongue thrust into Kysis' mouth, lips mashing until they vaguely hurt. Cernick reached for the buckles of his armor, fumbling with them, Kysis quickly helping, tugging, pulling.

They had to part for a few breathless moments as pieces of armor were flung off, lips crashing together again. It did not feel soon enough when Cernick's tunic was finally stripped off, the Captain of the Guard stepping out of his pants.

Kysis sucked in a nervous breath, heart fluttering as he saw clearly the effect of their heated kisses on Cernick, bobbing before him. The guard blushed, stepping gently into the water as to not slosh it everywhere. The water level rose to Kysis' chest, bobbing just below pert, pink nipples. Cernick's fingers were on them in a moment, just brushing at first before squeezing, twisting, tugging.

With a low moan, stifled by the biting of his lip, Kysis reclined against the tub wall, giving Cernick free range. Cernick hungrily took it.

They were not going to part with any lingering regrets.


	12. Light Bringer

**Disclaimer:** I do not own BG2 or any of the characters. Kysis, my PC, is an OC. As all PCs in BG2 are.

**Warning:** Extremely graphic violence, insinuation of a Cernick/Kysis relationship, dark themes, morbidity, etc.

**AN:** This is the chapter that tipped me over 50k. So I just wrote 50k in one month. That's really cool. Since this story is not even really half way over yet, I don't plan on stopping any time soon. Perhaps I can do 100k in two months?

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part XII: Light Bringer**

Returning to Athkatla felt like it came too soon, an unwelcome reunion. They all said kind parting words to Nalia, offering help while they still could, saying the window was narrow. How narrow, they were not sure. Currently they had over fourteen thousand gold, and equipment they could sell which would round it off over fifteen, but they needed twenty. Selling could wait, at least for a short while. Rather than going straight back to the Copper Coronet to ensure boarding, Kysis led them to the Temple District, up to the massive monument that was the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart's headquarters.

The massive statues outside of past knights and Torm loomed overhead, casting long shadows over him. They were no less daunting now then they were the first time he ever approached an Order house. This time, there was a new kind of discomfort settled in his stomach, fluttering about as angry butterflies captured in his abdomen. Kysis pursed his lips, brows furrowing in as he tried concentrating on anything but the feeling and its cause.

After his time with Cernick, there had been an uncomfortable sort of balance between him and the others. They did not know anything for certain, but they were suspicious, and that was enough to drive a wedge between them.

When their dinner with the nobles had ended, Jaheira was the first one to interrogate Kysis on what went on in the bathing room. She knew from the servants that Cernick had entered and been in there for a long time. Kysis had lied, as much as the act felt absolutely vile to him, claiming that Cernick wanted to discuss further training of the guards and fortifications with him. When Jaheira commented that such a discussion taking place while he was naked, bathing, was hardly appropriate, Kysis asserted that there had been no other time, and since they were both busy men, it had to work, despite the apparent awkwardness of the entire situation.

That seemed to sate her, for now. Anomen rebuffed her for questioning the morals of a paladin, which only made Kysis feel worse about the entire matter. He was a paladin. Some paladins were married, but most swore themselves off to celibacy in order to keep their minds unclouded from anything which might divert them from the path of justice. Those relationships were always between a man and a woman. The Order, and just about every other institution from Waterdeep to Tethyr, thought two men lying together to be unnatural, wrong, evil even, in some cases. It was not just frowned upon, but harshly persecuted and punished, as well.

Going in to the Order now when he and Cernick had been together just a day earlier, so recently he still found it uncomfortable to sit in most chairs, was extremely trying, and risky. Kysis knew the notion was a silly one, but he hoped the others within the Order could not sense it on him. His heart was absolutely hammering when he finally entered the Order building.

Kysis crossed the main floor quickly with long strides, gait not quite as fluid as it normally could be. He had to repress a grimace as he stepped up a stair awkwardly. Rather than asking where Keldorn's abode in the Order might be, Kysis searched for it, not wanting to talk to anyone other than his target. That was possible, thankfully, Kysis finally finding Keldorn in a large room full of cots and chests of belongings.

With a big smile, Keldorn approached, clapping Kysis on the shoulder. "It is good to see you again, friend! How fare's you?"

"Good, Keldorn. How has the Order been treating you?" Kysis smiled weakly, moving slightly away from Keldorn. He was more comfortable at a distance.

"Just as they always do: too lavishly. I wish they would realize that I do not need them to wait on me, or pamper me. I would hate to go soft while waiting between missions. Evil won't be resting, after all."

"Of course not." Kysis looked down, shifting from foot to foot. "Are you ready to go?"

"There is something I wish to discuss with you first, Kysis, if you can lend an ear?" Keldorn motioned towards two chairs near by. Kysis had to suppress a cringe just looking at the hard wooden seat, instead somehow keeping his smile even as he sat tenderly down. "When I returned home, I was confronted with a most disturbing plight. My lady, my beloved wife, has been unfaithful."

Kysis felt his heart clench. That was terrible. "And by law, she and the offender will be executed."

"Yes." Keldorn groaned, woe apparent on his worn face. "I could not turn her in, or the man she was with, a man I once trusted."

"What did you do?" The question came out as a frail whisper, fear lacing every word of it. Kysis had heard of many a paladin falling this way. If Keldorn had fallen...

"Nothing. I wanted your council. It would kill me to see my beloved dragged through the hell of a trial and the execution to come, and I do not want to deprive my daughters of their mother, faithless or no." Keldorn looked pleadingly at Kysis, heart in his eyes. "As a paladin, I must uphold the law. There is no way that the outcome would be any different, though."

It was true. If his wife had admitted to the affair, the courts would impose their sentence, other circumstances, like Keldorn never being around, or not. Sometimes the law was too impartial. "Have you spoken to this man?"

"By heavens no! My vows would be forfeit if I so much as came in sight of the scoundrel!"

"Unless something is done about this, you will be haunted by it, day and night." Kysis rolled his lips together into a thin line, thinking. Sometimes, he still seemed like a child. He had been sheltered like one for so long. "There may be a way for us to settle this without your children losing their mother and without this man's blood being spilt."

"I'm listening."

"You will talk to this man, find out why your wife has strayed from her vows, and hopefully some solution will come of it." The words felt and no doubt sounded naïve. Kysis did not understand love, truly. He himself had not felt it, not with the lover he had taken in Candlekeep, not with Cernick. That was something different. Love… Kysis knew that if it was any less complicated, it would not be worth as much.

"This man had the audacity to—"

"I will be there to support you, Keldorn. You are a man of honor. I trust whatever decision you make." Kysis watched as the angry tremble melted from Keldorn's features, how his face seemed just slightly less red. There was still turmoil in his eyes, but that was to be expected.

They needed to deal with this before anything else. Kysis could not risk having Keldorn distracted in a tight spot.

0 0 0 0 0

The Order house was dark when they finally returned to it, a place Kysis was not keen to be back in, but dealt with. The issue had been resolved, somewhat, but it also delayed their current plans. They would not be able to go ahead with selling their gear and paying their "informant" until Keldorn was back in their fold. Since the couple had reconciled, that would be at least a few days, which Kysis was willing to give.

They were back in the Order house now, Keldorn packing a few things to take back to his manor, insisting they be along to bid him farewell, if only for a short time. Keldorn thanked Kysis warmly and then was gone, hurrying home with a sort of zest he probably had not felt for a long time.

The long room felt empty, the cots unoccupied as of yet. They would be filled soon, as it was getting late, and the members of the Order housed there had a strict curfew to abide by. Kysis lingered there a moment longer, taking in a deep breath before going out into the main room of the Order headquarters. There was someone waiting for him.

"Kysis, if I may have a word?"

He froze in mid step, tensing. That was a voice he recognized from the conference with the Prelate and his underlings. Kysis turned his gaze slowly, grey eyes locking on the paladin next to him, a full knight of the Order. He recognized him as Sir William Reirrac, who was not the one attacking him the most fervently, as Sir Ryan Trawl had been, but all the same, he had been there. He had not said anything in Kysis' defense. Kysis tensed for the worst. "Speak."

"Garren Windspear said many a great thing about you, heritage aside. He suggested that you would be able to do far more good with the guidance of a patron like the Order, and the Prelate asked me to speak to you about such matters. Would you be willing to serve the Order in such a way?"

That was not what he had been expecting. Kysis turned fully to face him, shock clear on his face. Yes, he was a paladin, yes he defended the weak, but the Order was puritanical, and the thought of them accepting a Bhaalspawn into the fold was verging on blasphemy, at the very least. Kysis blinked a few times, waiting through the moments, as though Reirrac would burst out that he was joking, or some other nonsense, but the declaration never came.

"It would be an honor." The words slipped breathlessly through Kysis' lips. He had to remind himself to inhale, lest he pass out, making a fool of himself.

"The Prelate has already determined that I should be your direct superior. You will report to me during your service." Reirrac smiled, if only faintly. It was probably as much as the aging paladin did these days. "I would not have gone through these matters so hastily, if our need was not dire. A runner came just before you arrived back with Keldorn stating that there is an urgent conflict in the Umar Hills, and many of our beloved youth are in danger. The runner said they are holding off the forces for now, but it is only a matter of time before they fall. Please Kysis, go now, before it is too late."

Immediately Kysis was regretting not having rested at all except for a very brief period on the previous day, travel and errands having run him down. Kysis could barely feel the wariness, though it loomed at the back of his head, alerting him of its presence. The others must have been feeling much the same. However, if they stopped to do anything, to rest at all, they might be too late.

"We'll go."

"Good. The Prelate has already set aside a chamber for you to call your own, and you may store any extra gear there. Travel light, and travel fast. May Torm be with you."

Kysis should not have been surprised by how much the Prelate assumed. If Kysis had decided not to accept, they probably would have assumed that Bhaal had gotten a stronger foothold on him and that he was no longer truly a paladin. There was only one answer that did not involve a stake and a pyre, so Kysis took it, quietly apologizing to his companions, with an exception of Anomen, before leading the way.

0 0 0 0 0

It felt like the Order was purposefully giving them menial tasks which other knights could accomplish without batting any eyelash or even breaking a sweat. The forces in the Umar Hills fell easily before them, even without Keldorn in tow. Kysis got to the bottom of the deal with the farmers and the burning of the land, settling that score; he only wished it could have been less bloody. Protecting the brat daughter of such a noble family had been tedious, to say the very least, and he was more than happy to see it over.

That was when Sir William Reirrac decided to impart one last mission, one closer to their talents… though it was most likely far beyond. Kysis knew he was strong, but a dragon? A red dragon? Firkraag was an issue to be dealt with, though, so he had no choice but to accept and depart immediately (with Keldorn once more in tow).

The sun was sinking below the jagged cliffs of the Windspear Hills, long shadows enveloping Garren Windspear's cabin. Kysis lifted his hand, knocking on the wooden door. After a moment of shuffling, the door opened to a crack, Garren peering out. Immediately the door swung the rest of the way open, Garren stepping back. "Come in! Come in! What brings you back to these parts?"

"The Order has sent us to deal with Firkraag."

"Truly?" Iltha stepped into the room, hands wringing nervously together before her. The look on her face was torn, teetering between relief and anxiety. "You are already a symbol of hope to us, Kysis. Do not extinguish that flame so soon."

Kysis could not bear looking at her. The way she gazed on him was as if she wanted more than the non-existent relationship they already had. It was like she wanted one of those tragic romances one read about in fairytales with kidnapped princesses and knights in shining armor. Kysis may have been in shining armor, and Iltha may have been kidnapped by Firkraag at one point, but this was no fairytale and he had absolutely no interest in a tragic romance with her. Even if there was nothing between he and Cernick, he would not have wanted such a thing.

There was always a chance that whoever he came up against, whether it be Firkraag or Irenicus or worse, would chose a loved one as leverage, as vengeance, and Kysis refused to let anyone suffer like that because of him.

"This is something that must be done. The Order has decreed that we are the best suited to carry this out." Keldorn smiled as he spoke, and Iltha immediately seemed to relax. Kysis would have to remember to thank Keldorn for stepping in once they were out of the Windspears' earshot. "Under Kysis' leadership, we are destined to succeed."

Destined was not a word he liked. Kysis felt the weight of destiny sitting on his shoulders, now more than ever. It felt like a string of fate was tugging him through these events, forcing him to go the way he was, slowly leading him back to Irenicus. There was a chance he would survive the upcoming encounter with Firkraag, but Irenicus… a shiver ran up his spine, a shudder soon following. Kysis had a hunch that Irenicus would be just as lethal under the care of the Cowled Wizards as he was in his own domain, and that worried him.

Kysis did not want to think about destiny right now.

"So long as you and your companions are here, you may use the extra rooms in my cabin." Garren smiled, diffusing the tension in the room. Kysis quietly thanked him, the former lord of the lands leading them to said rooms. They would need their rest if they were going to face off with Firkraag.

0 0 0 0 0

The ruins were empty for the most part, dark hollow hallways and cold, listless chambers. Kysis could feel the presence of blood still staining the walls from their last advance through Firkraag's lair, blood heating just slightly at that presence. Kysis focused instead on their objective, far below them, secluded and no doubt guarded once more.

Every step across loose gravel seemed to echo, crunching loudly in the silent air. Kysis cringed when he made louder sounds, envious of how Yoshimo seemed to walk on air, not making a single noise. The crypt was absolutely still, the presence of undead a lingering chill and nothing more. Someone had gone into the ruins and vanquished those cursed creatures, no doubt while they were still weak and hiding in their coffins. That was one less obstacle for them to overcome, so it was welcome.

Samia was still there, looking for some book or another. This time, rather than rushing past her, Kysis agreed to help, remaining ever cautious, wary of her. A lone woman come to excavate a tomb in a very dangerous region without any problems? Kysis knew she was not alone. It was just a matter of not being surprised by her group.

As suspected, her group appeared once they had cleared all of the guardians, including the last one, which had been invisible without the helm the other guardians were holding pieces off. It wasn't books they sought. There was more in the tomb itself, behind them, and Samia would have it.

In a matter of minutes they had all fallen, slain. Kysis stared down at them, eyes half-lidded, lips slack. There was blood everywhere, the floor of the small chamber swimming in it, the walls splattered. There were even some spots on the ceiling. It was like the dream. Kysis did not move, staying in the middle of it as though his legs had turned to stone.

It felt like they had, or rather, his legs were just unwilling to move. His heart was pounding, part from the exertion, part from the blood itself. The others passed into the next room, Jaheira calling out to him to come look.

Kysis took in a shaky breath. Slowly, he sheathed his sword, stepping over Samia's body into the tomb. Yoshimo was holding up a sword, running a finger over the blade. The rogue let out an approving grunt before turning with the blade in hand. It was a long sword, that much Kysis could tell. Anything else was lost to him.

When Yoshimo offered the hilt out to him, Kysis took it, feeling the enchantments immediately. They made his skin crawl. The metal of the hilt had been dyed some way, coming out a burnt, almost rusty crimson color. The pommel was a dragon's head, shrieking as though in pain, or just very angry. Kysis had not decided. He turned the sword in his grip, feeling the wire wrapped hilt, fingers fitting comfortably against it. The blade was long, straight, with a slight reddish cast.

Yoshimo tossed the sheath, Kysis quickly shifting the sword to his right hand so he could catch the projectile with his left. "That sword is a dragon's bane. It will come in handy, no?" Yoshimo chuckled, pulling a shield with the same reddened metal out from under a large, rectangular stone, no doubt where the sword had come from. Kysis quickly sheathed the sword, attaching it to his baldric.

There was no point in having a moral debate about whether or not they should be taking these things from a tomb, the tomb of an elven king, no less. They were after Firkraag, and this would most definitely help them.

"This shield has wards against fire. Want it?"

Kysis nodded, catching the shield as it was thrown at him. His original training had been using the combination of a sword and a shield, so he was particularly good at it. The magic humming from the shield was stronger than that on the sword, and he could feel it coursing through him in a matter of moments. He settled it comfortably on his right arm, tightening the straps.

The others were heading out of the tomb already, only Keldorn lingering, pausing beside him.

"May I speak with you for a moment, my friend?" Keldorn crossed his arms, face stern. It was obvious that he would not take no for an answer; he wasn't even looking for an answer. "Something has been troubling me... about you. It is like there is a battle raging inside you, though I do not know what for. It only… it gives me a sickly feeling inside, an urgent one. I do not like it."

For a moment, Kysis closed his eyes, hand clenching hard on the hilt of his new sword. It was a solid reassurance, though he was not sure why he needed one. "What exactly is it that you feel?" Kysis couldn't hide the worry he was feeling.

"It is like you are constantly in battle for your very soul with some grave evil. I cannot explain it. The feeling is strongest during combat, and just after battles." Keldorn was not looking directly at him, voice hushed, though the others were already far ahead and would not hear.

"Your senses are very fine tuned Keldorn." Kysis looked at the far wall, forcing himself to loosen his grip on his sword. His knuckles were turning white. Kysis flexed his fingers, letting out a shaky breath. "This battle you sense is in my blood, for the taint was passed down from my father."

"Oh?"

"He was a god of the dark pantheon. You hadn't heard?" Kysis glanced sharply at Keldorn, watching for a reaction. There was utter surprise on Keldorn's face, showing that he truly had not known. Perhaps the aging paladin was not in the loop so much as Kysis first expected.

"In that case, I ask that you keep me by your side, as a strong arm in this battle against your dark blood." Keldorn's words were firm, commanding. "Together, we will defeat this."

"Thank you, Keldorn." Kysis tried to show happiness at the offer, but it fell flat. All of his life, he had been battling this unknown, unseen force inside of him and managed to emerge on top, still a paladin, true and good. He did not need help now. Yet, at the same time, he felt thankful that finally, _finally_ someone was willing to help shoulder the burden with him.

The worse part was that feeling that he did not deserve the help.

0 0 0 0 0

With a shriek and a weak roar, Firkraag fell, massive, wound riddled legs finally giving out. The chamber shook, Kysis kneeling to stop himself from tumbling over. He used his sword as balance, to steady himself, breaths ragged, too fast and not giving any relief. His blood rushed hot through his veins, like a rope being tugged inside him, barbs attached to it.

The pounding in his head was almost too much to bear.

Slowly, Kysis pushed himself up from the ground, chest still heaving. His vision swam. Firkraag practically looked like he was glowing, despite the dim lighting, vision swimming red with the expanse of his glistening scales and the blood which slicked him. Firkraag was still breathing, if barely, yellow eyes watching Kysis' every move.

The dragon was helpless. Something in the back of his head told him to stop. He could turn and leave then, taking the holy blade Firkraag supposedly held. The dragon was mortally wounded, had no way to move to help, no minions to heal him.

He did not stop.

His feet moved of their own accord, carrying him closer. Kysis let his shield slip off his arm, landing in a loud clatter on the mosaic stone floor. The others were somewhere behind him, still keeping back, ever wary that the dragon was faking it. Firkraag might have been. Nothing crossed his mind as he drew closer, coming to stand beside the dragon's massive head.

A yellow eye blinked at him, Firkraag struggling to move his head away, barely managing at all. Kysis watched, grey eyes cold, distant. He walked along the dragon's neck, an ungloved hand running over the scales, feeling them, testing them.

With a faint, sickly smile, Kysis turned, sliding the blade in, under the skin. He walked with slow steps, blade meeting no resistance, staying between the scaly hide and muscle. Just above the wings he stopped, pulling his blood-slicked sword free. Dropping it, he brought his hands up to the fresh wound, pale skin immediately slicked.

The warm blood felt good.

He pulled, skin snapping tight before ripping, slowly but surely peeling away. Gasps sounded somewhere across the wide chamber. With a wet slap, the skin came free, drooping in his hands, piling at his feet. His eyes locked on the bared flesh, the pulsing veins, all flayed before him.

A hand struck him across the face.

Kysis dropped the skin, blinking, swallowing harshly. His eyes regained focus, locking on the grisly sight before him, then down at the skin ruffled about his feet like a dropped skirt. Though he tried to gasp, it came out as a croak, heart pounding in fright. Kysis backed away, stumbling, tripping over his shield and falling.

Swiftly, Keldorn walked up to Firkraag's head, ending the dragon's misery quickly, with one firm slash. Jaheira remained between Kysis and the dragon's neck, horror clearly written on her face. He could not miss the disgust in her eyes.

There was no way to take this back, to change this, what happened. Kysis wanted desperately to explain himself, but they would only be excuses.

Bhaal had more of a hold on him than he was willing to admit.

0 0 0 0 0

The skin had been hung on one of the trees outside of the Windspear cabin to dry and cure, taken as proof that Firkraag was truly dead. Kysis sat outside of the cabin as the others talked to Garren, staring at the large patch of skin, the way the sun caught the scales. Though he wore armor specifically designed for paladins and other servants of the Order, it felt wrong.

It was terrible wrong. Already most of the armor had been removed, flung to the side, laying in the packed dirt. Kysis pulled at the straps on his torso, having to wiggle them to get the leather loose, chucking off the last of his armor. He had not deserved it in the first place.

The door beside him opened, Kysis not looking up, grim glare still locked on the skin. It was a reminder. He couldn't lose himself like that again. What if it had been one of his companions he attacked? He felt too dangerous, far too dangerous, to be with them, and yet they insisted upon staying, that he needed them, all of these answers he did not want to hear, but no doubt needed to.

Those answers would at least stop him from trying to run after Imoen on his own.

Iltha sat down beside Kysis, glancing shyly over at him. Kysis did not return the look. Blood still covered from the tips of his fingers to his elbows, a few streaks of it on his face, in his platinum hair. He did not want to wash it off yet.

If he was going to control this, he had to get used to the scent of blood and work to change the way he felt about it, try to diffuse the way he felt about it. Someday, blood might not affect him at all.

That was a fruitless hope.

"You did it. You truly are the Light Bringer of stories." Iltha smiled, as timid as it was.

"I'm no hero." Kysis closed his eyes. His voice was deep, rough, rumbling from the back of his throat in a much huskier fashion than he wanted. The physical reaction he had to blood was vile, to say the least.

"You slew a dragon!" Iltha did not sound at all frustrated or phased. She was naïve. "Of course you are a hero! A hundred bards will sing of your deeds one day!"

Kysis rested his head back against the wooden siding of the cabin. He did not need this right now. A sigh seethed through his lips. He turned his head, opening his eyes to cracks. Iltha was still there. She glanced at his lips, a rosy hue blossoming in her cheeks.

With an irritated groan, Kysis stood, slamming the cabin door shut behind him. The last thing he needed was a love sick fool on his hands.


	13. The Right Price

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn or any of that stuff. I just write this crazy fanfic and own the character of Kysis, though he has been adapted for this fic. Yeah. That logistical stuff.

**Warning:** closet gay paladin with theological issues and some borderline psychological problems, violence, blood, language, mature themes, alcohol, etc.

**Author's Note:** Wow it's been forever since I wrote on this thing. O_o Sorry for the obscene delay? On another note, I fixed all the section breaks in all the previous chapters, so it's not all smooshed together anymore. Sorry about that!

**SAVIOR FALLING**

**Part XIII: The Right Price**

The trek back to the Order had been a long one, not because of the distance or the time taken, but because of the climate in which Kysis had to travel. Jaheira still was not talking to him, though he knew she would eventually come around to it, as she always did. Yoshimo seemed oblivious, carrying the hide of Firkraag himself. Keldorn kept close, if only to watch him. Anomen was a few paces away, giving him furtive glances.

Anomen was the one Kysis was worried about. The squire had been charged with watching Kysis, insuring he did not stray from the path of a paladin, that he did not succumb to Bhaal's dark taint. Kysis had given in, if only for those fleeting few moments.

When they arrived back in the Order's headquarters in Athkatla, Anomen had nothing to say. He greeted his fellows with smiles, told Sir Ryan Trawl that all was well, and continued on with Kysis to Reirrac.

The old knight was pleased, to say the least, face lighting up in a huge smile as he beheld the shining scales of Firkraag. If he had known how those scales were acquired, he might not have been so quick to praise. Anomen and Keldorn were both tight-lipped, however, as though they were too interested in what Kysis might do next to cut the show short.

Kysis tried not to think about it in such terms. He was no dancing bear and he was not there for their entertainment.

"Thank you for your noble deeds, Kysis! Know from now on you are a welcome sight in the Order, and if ever you can be of further help to our cause, we will contact you." Reirrac was still gushing. A small crowd of knights had gathered around, mostly young to the Order, staring in awe at the collection of dragon scales.

"Sir Reirrac, we have brought the sword as well."

The sound of Keldorn's voice made Kysis tense at first. He feared for the worst. The words, however, were harmless, Kysis letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Keldorn pulled the Holy Avenger from his back, the massive two-handed sword gleaming with a light of its own, the blade humming as it swished effortlessly through the air. That was truly a weapon of righteousness, only to be wielded by one like a paladin. Kysis did not feel like he should be the one to bear it, though. He could still feel Firkraag's blood on him, though he had since scrubbed it off.

Reirrac shook his head when Keldorn offered the blade to him, still grinning ear to ear. His keen senses were obviously thrown off-kilter by this obvious victory for the Order. "No. Such a holy blade has every right to be used on the field by a holy warrior such as you. Take it, as a thank you from the Order, and use it well."

The blade was strapped to Keldorn's back once again, that unspoken agreement between he and Kysis remaining strong. For that, Kysis was glad.

Quietly, Kysis dismissed himself, leaving for the street.

The moment he stepped out of the building, someone pulled from the shadows behind him, barely a sound but something he had grown used to with Yoshimo in the party. Kysis turned, just his head at first, a smile starting to pull on his lips, even if it was a forced one.

It was not Yoshimo behind him.

Kysis spun, quickly, blade already out of his sheath, tip pointed at the rogue.

The woman was in dark clothing, a hood drawn up over her head. He could feel magic tingling in her clothing, armor, effectively wreathing her. Gloves covered her hands; every inch of skin was either shielded by her enchanted clothing or in the shadow of her hood.

Kysis could only see a little of her face, the skin pale, like porcelain. She smiled. It had a touch of human warmth to it, immediate worries seeping away.

It was daylight. Such fears were silly.

He lowered his sword, tip almost touching the cobbled street. Though his stance was no longer hostile, he was still not trusting, keeping his blade out and at the ready. A quick glance around told him his other companions had already gone back to the Copper Coronet, as instructed, Anomen and Keldorn still inside the building before him.

"No need for such hostilities, Kysis." Her smile remained, coy, almost taunting, as she used his name. "I know of you, and I know of what you seek. I also know that my Mistress wishes to make you a better offer."

Kysis tried not to frown. If this Mistress of hers knew all this, then her people had been following him, and he did not like that at all. This woman could know any number of things about him.

"Come to the graveyard at night, and my Mistress will discuss the finer details with you." The woman tilted her head to the side, gazing at him with her big, dark eyes. Still her whole face was in shadow, yet Kysis could see a little more of it now. There was a lightly pink flush on her cheeks, healthy, and not nearly as sinister as he had first thought.

Kysis sheathed his sword. "Who shall I say sent me?" The words were gruff, coming out throatier than he had first intended. He had not done much talking since they left the Windspear Hills. It was showing.

"Valen." With that, she ducked back into the shadows, Kysis watching her closely as she flitted this way and that, before she vanished entirely around a corner. Her feet were silent, as was all her gear. There were too many highly skilled thieves in Athkatla, as far as he was concerned.

The grand doors of the Order's headquarters swung open, Keldorn and Anomen striding out. They were jolly, talking loudly of past exploits, laughing merrily. Kysis could not join in the revelry.

Falling into formation, they wound their way back to the slums and the Copper Coronet.

0 0 0 0 0

The boy Gaelan Bayle had made them talk to initially about work was waiting for them at the Copper Coronet, the only child around, bright yellow tunic and vibrant blue pantaloons making him stand out like a glowing streak. Kysis had been unable to avoid him, as the boy seemed to be there to talk with him, and was persistent in following him.

It was about hiring help to find Imoen. Gaelan had a new offer, and wouldn't much like the woman he had spoken with earlier. Kysis had frowned through all of this, not liking the fact that both sides were following him, and discretely enough that even Yoshimo had yet notice, or at least say anything.

Both groups were thieves, Kysis could tell that much. He did not like the options, but he knew he would have to choose one of them.

Yoshimo put a bowl of gruel down before Kysis. He looked up, grey eyes giving nothing away as he watched the thief sit. The others were off mingling, or something, Kysis did not know what. There was too much on his mind for him to care at the moment.

"I think you should explore this new option." Yoshimo took a bite of his own food, taking it down with a harsh swallow. He flinched. It seemed they had all forgotten just how bad the fare at the Copper Coronet really was. "If they are willing to do it for less money, it will save us a lot of hard work."

Kysis nodded, stirring the slop before him. It smelled revolting. "When the sun starts to go down, we will go to the graveyard." Kysis did not like the prospect of that. The winding streets of Athkatla were hardly safe during the day, and even less so at night. The graveyard was an entirely new matter.

He would have to ask this Mistress of Valen why the strange, cold, dangerous meeting place. If his suspicions held true, he would not sully himself further to work with such foul creatures.

A laugh almost escaped his lips at that thought. _He_ was calling _them_ foul creatures. Ha! Kysis' shoulders shook slightly in his sarcastic mirth despite himself, no doubt concealed by his armor. It was the armor stripped from Tazok, not the armor the Order had given him in gratitude. Kysis still did not feel worthy of that armor, especially after what happened.

Jaheira had suggested they get the dragon hide made into armor by a local smithy who specialized in the strange. It would be a constant reminder to him. He would not be able to escape what he was, what that dark influence could do to him.

That was probably for the best.

"It is still early if you wanted to stroll the markets, exchange some gear, take in the sights and smells one last time." There was a certain glint to Yoshimo's eyes that Kysis did not like. Kysis shook his head. "Suit yourself, then. I'll be back when dinner is served."

Yoshimo finished in food in one large spoonful, knocking his head back as though it would help the swallowing process. He seemed to get it down, taking a deep breath just a moment later, then standing. He was lost in the crowd quickly.

0 0 0 0 0

The hours were passing too slowly, creeping past a moment at a time. The crowd changed as the time of day did, people coming and going constantly. Kysis moved from his usual table over to the side, surveying the crowd. He had seen Jaheira once, Keldorn and Anomen a few more times than that. Still, time was not passing any quicker.

It felt like it would be light outside forever.

Wandering did not sound like any better an option, even though it would make time go faster. There was a chance he would run into trouble, not be able to get back in time, any number of things. More and more people knew who he was in Athkatla. It was only a matter of time before the details of his heritage were spilled to the masses as well.

It was best just to lay low.

Lunch was served, not a meal that came with their too expensive stay. Kysis' stomach growled lowly, but he would not give in. They still did not have enough money, so unless this new offer lowered the price an exorbitant amount, they would have to go on collecting.

Kysis let his gaze wander, picking over the regulars of the tavern, new faces he did not recognize, and the looming doors leading to the back rooms.

His feet started carrying him of their own accord, boots clicking as he walked across the wooden floor. The guard at the door nodded at him, not stepping in his way as he opened the door and slipped through it.

Someone greeted him immediately, a heavily armed guard, telling him to enjoy the pleasures of the back rooms. The way he said it made a shiver run over Kysis' shoulders, not a pleasant feeling. He could feel the evil of the man. It was not a supernatural evil, but a base one.

This reeked like a den of slavers.

Kysis turned right, going through another door. Beyond, was an arena. Slowly, Kysis approached the railing, leaning on it. There were nobles gathered to one side, a box that no doubt got a great view of the entire arena and its multiple pits.

Thus far, he had not found that haunting hallway from his dreams.

An announcer's voice boomed through the room, no doubt amplified by magic, calling out the details to a fight. It was a man against a troll. Kysis' stomach tightened as he watched, the dwarf pushed out into the ring without armor on, only a small, chipped dagger in his gnarled hand.

It was obvious the man did not want to fight. Kysis glanced sharply to the nobles. They were jeering the announcer on to open the cage where the monstrous troll was held, the foul beast shaking the bars keeping it away from what would definitely be its next meal.

Nausea made Kysis look away as the bars slid up, troll launching out of the cage. Every time he heard bones crunch, flesh rip, blood spurt, he flinched. There was nothing he could do, to help, to save that man, anything. Even if he did jump over the railing and charge into the pit, he had no way to destroy a troll, the Flail of Ages in his room. The man probably would have been dead by the time he reached the battle, anyway.

Turning, Kysis hurried out of the room, not paying attention to where he was going until a door closed behind him, darkness closing in.

Fumbling, Kysis pulled out a piece of flint, groping around the wall until he found a torch. With one strike of flint on stone, he lit it, flames roaring to life.

It was the hallway.

The hallway was narrow, dark stone with old wooden beams holding it up. There was no blood on the floor, on the walls, though he could sense that there had been, at one time, no doubt scrubbed off. Rather than Imoen's voice, meek, defeated, Kysis heard people giggling, taking part in one illegal substance or another, no doubt.

The door opened behind him, light pouring in. Jaheira was in the doorway, in all her armor, quarterstaff strapped on her back. She frowned deeply. "We were worried about you! Don't vanish like that, not after what Irenicus did!"

Kysis cringed at the sound of that name, looking away. The nausea still had not passed, head spinning a little. Kysis leaned on the wall, pressing his throbbing temple against the cool stone of the wall. It felt good.

Jaheira hurried through the door, Anomen and Keldorn following behind her. They were also battle ready and worried, though not as much as the druid. She had always worried over him, taking Gorion's charge very seriously, sometimes too much so, he believed. He could not even go to the chamber pot without her panicking, half the time.

The door thudded shut behind Keldorn, flame in the near torch flickering, but not going out.

"What is wrong, Kysis?"

Kysis let out a long sigh, looking down the opposite direction of the Copper Coronet's main room. "Slavers."

Jaheira let out a hiss, face immediately knotting up in anger, a flush touching her cheeks. She had always fought against slavers. As far as Kysis understood, all Harpers did.

Surprisingly, it was Anomen who spoke first. "This kind of base corruption will not be tolerated!" His voice boomed through the hallway, echoing. All but Anomen flinched, the cleric oblivious to the disturbance he caused, the danger he might have just put them in.

Either way, they all agreed with his statement. There was no choice but to right this, and now.

Kysis turned, unsheathing his sword as he walked for the far end of the hallway.

0 0 0 0 0

Dinner was being served in the front of the Copper Coronet when they emerged, most of the patrons turning a blind eye to the scuffle as Lehtinan was killed by the slaves he had forced to fight. The back of the Copper Coronet, run only because of the slaves they kept, was shut down, practically empty when they left. The patrons of that dark place had no doubt fled the moment there was a sign of trouble.

Yoshimo was already at their usual table, twisted in his seat to watch the spectacle. He had not even noticed that a bowl was put before him until Kysis and the others sat down as well, drawing Yoshimo's attention back to the table.

"I see you managed to stir up your fair share of trouble while I was gone!" Yoshimo laughed, grabbing his spoon and digging into the oily soup as though it was some delicacy, or like he had not seen food in many moons, which was definitely not the case. Neither was the case, Kysis discovered as a bowl was put in front of him, its foul stench wafting to his nose.

Kysis dug his spoon into the glossy broth before him, pulling out a mushy chunk of potato and shoveling it into his mouth. He chewed quickly, trying not to think about the scent of blood nearby, or the scent of the soup itself. There were other, less identifiable vegetables in the soup, Kysis keeping his eyes on Hendack, the "head" of the slaves, only so declared because he survived the most gladiatorial matches and tried his hardest to save those he fought.

Hendack spoke with Bernard, quietly enough Kysis could not hear it, even though the distance was not far. The boom of the crowd was too much to overcome, though. It seemed they would do business just fine with one another; as far as Kysis understood it, Bernard had not been supportive of Lehtinan having slaves, nor had he known the full extent of it. That seemed to be enough for Hendack, the northern man, displaced by slavers, accepting him just fine.

They finished their stew and loaf of stale bread quickly, a barmaid taking the bowls and twisted, old spoons away just as swiftly. There was nothing tying the group to the Copper Coronet now.

It was time to make the trek to the graveyard.

0 0 0 0 0

When the sun descended over the far horizon, the graveyard became an entirely different place. A cold wind swept between crypts, whistling through tombstones. An eerie quiet had settled over the entire place, the people which had given it a shred of life gone, though it did not feel like an empty void. Far from it, Kysis could sense others there, hidden eyes that followed the group everywhere.

It was not until the last ray of light in the sky had vanished that he felt a presence drawing closer, taking interest in him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up on end, a chill running up his spine. That cold feeling, the feeling of powerful undead nearby, settled in the pit of his stomach.

Coming to the graveyard was a mistake.

"We should go." Kysis turned, ready to lead his group out of the graveyard. He could see the exit, just twenty or so feet away. Somehow, it felt much further.

"I see Valen kept to her word." The voice seethed out like a viper, yet somehow was still sickly sweet. That voice made Kysis shiver again. He turned. There she stood, beneath a half-crumbled arch, skin as pale as the moon, black hair wispy, hanging ethereally off her head. Her lips were unnaturally red. Kysis could see the moonlight glint off her abnormally long canines.

"Why did you have us meet you in such a dark and treacherous place?" The words felt forced leaving Kysis' lips, stiff, through a clenched jaw. The question itself was rhetorical; Kysis knew why they would come to this place. She was an unnatural creature, and could no doubt not venture far from her crypt, or rather, did not want to go far from where she was heavily guarded.

Kysis let his grey eyes sweep over the dark graveyard, seeking for others near, guards perhaps, or just onlookers. He could not see anything. In this place, he was at a severe disadvantage, and knew it.

"I wanted to be away from prying eyes and curious ears." She smiled. Though it was no doubt meant to be kind, it was dripping with acid, only setting him more on edge. "My name is Bodhi, and I want to welcome you to my fold."

Before he could say anything, such as his extreme distaste for her, for the idea of working with her, Bodhi vanished, running off into the darkness. Normally, he would turn the other way, or draw his weapons to attack, but he knew neither would be effective. If he left, he knew Bodhi would follow him, an urgent, sickly feeling taking him over as he thought of it. That same feeling remained as he contemplated attack.

He was nowhere near strong enough to confront her kind of evil. If Imoen had not been at stake, he might have charged in, cares thrown to the wind.

Not now.

He would have to do this the civil way.

Kysis followed her into the darkness, picking up on her path quickly as it wove through the tall buildings and crooked stairways. Soon they were standing by a crypt which looked no different than the others, and yet, Bodhi had chosen this one for a reason.

"This is the crypt of which I offer you access." Bodhi flourished an arm towards the crypt and then paused, smile falling. "Oh, but you haven't agreed to my terms, though there is no reason for you to do anything but. I offer to find your dear Imoen for fifteen-thousand gold rather than the twenty the disgusting Shadow Thieves asked of you.

The shock must have been apparent on Kysis' face.

"Yes, you work for the Shadow Thieves at this point. They have a monopoly over this city and I wish to break it." Bodhi clenched her fist shut in a swift motion, as though she was crushing them in her hand. "You will help me with this."

"I may not agree morally with the Shadow Thieves…" Kysis took a deep breath. Bodhi's smirk grew. He could almost feel her excitement. "… but they are the devil I know."

Her smile fell immediately. Standing straight, she crossed her arms, the enmity coming from her increasing three-fold. Kysis straightened as well, keeping his face devoid of anything, forcing the fear she created out of his heart.

"You make a very dangerous foe this night!" With a hiss, Bodhi spun into the crypt, doors slamming shut. Kysis could feel an enchantment kick up, holding them shut tight.

0 0 0 0 0

"It's good to see you again!" Gaelan Bayle smiled brightly, laughing. His home was warm, a fire stoked in the hearth, shutters closed tight to keep out the cold. He was dressed in a patchwork of studded leather, a crossbow dangling from his belt, a short sword strapped at his side. Despite all this, he still seemed far friendlier than Bodhi. "I was startin' to get worried."

Kysis shook his head in a quiet denial, shooting a quick glance back at Yoshimo. The bounty hunter was frowning, leaning against a wall far away from the others. Yoshimo had argued for Bodhi, claimed it would be a large advantage to work for her, monetarily and power-wise. Yoshimo was convinced Bodhi could get them to Imoen faster, as well as find Irenicus.

The last part was what worried him. Kysis had expressed no desire to hunt down Irenicus. Jaheira had said the man's name once, in hushed tones far out of Yoshimo's earshot. The bounty hunter had not been with them when the dryads said their captor's name, the first time any of them had heard it.

Had it been stated in the battle in Waukeen's Promenade? Kysis could not remember, nor did he wish to mentally call up that event again.

It was hard enough to sleep at night already.

"What was this new deal your messenger boy spoke of?" Jaheira stepped forward, filling in the pregnant pause lest Gaelan take it the wrong way. That would be catastrophic, considering they had yet to hear anything of where Imoen was being held, or of other groups willing to help.

"My higher have decided to lower the cost by five-thousand gold." Gaelan nodded in a knowing way, smile not faltering. He hooked his thumbs on his belt, waiting expectantly.

"We'll do it." Kysis spoke quickly, not wanting to waste any more time.

Finally, they would be able to rescue Imoen.


End file.
